Mitchel and Davis are known for their constant states of creation and collaboration. If you go to shows in Atlanta, you’ve seen them play. Mitchell is currently in Carnivores, Christ, Lord, and Ocho Lord. Davis is known for her output in 100 Watt Horse, a project with Emily Kempf, and some bands that are still in name limbo.

We caught up with the two, as Ding Dong Family Circus were still unpracticed, to find out why a glee a club and what will go down when a harmonic circus takes the stage.

Purge: Where did the concept to form a glee club originate?

Billy: There’s a band in Chicago (I’m from Chicago) called Blue Ribbon Glee Club. Similar idea. It’s a lot of friends singing songs. Jayne [O'Conn0r] wanted to know “Do you have any bands with you or your friends that can play?” Well maybe we can just make this band with all of our friends. Maddy and I have been talking about playing music together for a while.

Maddy: That happened pretty fast. “Hey you wanna do this?” Yeah!

Purge: Why a glee club? Why not just form some kind of Atlanta super group?

Maddy: Well, no one else is doing it.

Billy: It sounds really fun to just have everyone singing really loudly together. That’s why; I just wanna have fun on stage.

Purge: What exactly goes into making a glee club performance?

Maddy: We’ll have to decide whose alto and tenor and go from there. Work out some harmonic properties.

Billy: It’s not just about singing just the vocals, but all the parts, and someone will probably have a tambourine.

Purge: Is a matching ensemble being planned?

Billy: I think there will be a theme.

Maddy: When I used to participate in Headband Girls there would be a very impromptu theme. “Okay everyone come dressed as one solid color.” “Orange is taken? Okay.”

Billy: All read ponchos would be nice. I think the practices will dictate the look of the group. Maybe sad clowns.

Purge: What has been the criteria for someone to join Ding Dong Family Circus?

Maddy: Billy and I made a list of our musical friends and we’re pretty much going to be going from there.

Billy: Everyone we’ve talked to so far is pretty excited. I think the air of uncertainty and that it will be a group of people — it’s not just you singing up on stage — so you can sing how you sing and no one will know. It will be like kindergarten class.

Purge: Have songs been chosen already?

Maddy: We made a list of covers that would be fun. I’m really using for “Rich Girl” by Hall and Oats.

Billy: Our friends in Hello Ocho and Faun and a Pan Flute will be gone on tour so we’re gonna sing one of each of their songs, specifically because no one in the audience will know the songs that well.

Maddy: It’s also a tribute because we know almost all of them would be in this if they were in town.

Billy: R. Kelly too. I’m from Chicago so that’s always close to my heart. I’ve participated in a lot of R. Kelly sing-alongs.

Purge: What R. Kelly song could be expected?

Billy: “Ignition”. The remix.

Maddy: Maybe “Real Talk” as a back up.

Billy: We could just do all R. Kelly songs.

Purge: After Desperate Encounters would you want Ding Dong Family Circus to perform again?

Maddy: I would. I’d like to see where it goes. If it ends up being easy and successful, then absolutely.

Ding Dong Family Circus will be performing as part of Desperate Encounters: a completely frenzied and shameless plea for your money and attention on Saturday, March 30th at The Star Bar. A fundraiser for Safety Third and Jayne O’Connor’s literary chapbook “When You Meet The Devil Tip Your Hat”.

How did you get started as an artist?

I moved to Atlanta about a year ago. I was a flight attendant for 9 years for USA3000–we did charters for Apple vacations. That was our parent company. I went to art school prior to that for graphic design–they called it “communication design” because it’s all-encompassing with digital media and all that. But I had always liked doing sculpture and drawing and other fine art kind of things. So I had always been doing it kind of recreationally or as a hobby–because I don’t really do hobbies very much. I take things pretty seriously. So moving to Atlanta, the airline went away, and I thought, I have unemployment for a year–why don’t I do the art thing. And see how that works.

What interested you in Dashboard?

Dashboard people are amazing. Just because of availability and wanting to get involved in the city here, I had been an assistant to Justin Rabideau, who’s a former Dash, and Nathan Sharratt, who are awesome people. There’s just this perfect marriage of friendship and work, like friendship with a purpose–I love those people, so why not marry the two. It seems like kind of a good reason to be involved with Dashboard–liking people and liking art.

And really why anyone gets involved with art: liking people and also to be a person.

Yes! To be a person. That is what it’s all about.

What is your process? What drives you?

I like to try to help people drink beer. I like “Holy Fuck” moments, for lack of a better term. Like if somebody came into a room and did a backflip you’re like “Holy shit! That was awesome” and then you go back to the conversation with your friends. So I feel like–not to belittle my work or sound cynical, but I like my work to have that kind of–somebody comes in and sees it and says “holy shit!” and then goes and drinks beers and has fun with their friends. This particular work is following that cannon and hopefully is also beautiful on top of that.

It is beautiful–I can vouch for that. How about ugliness? Tell me about ugly things that inspire your art, or ugly places where you find it.

Oh wow. I guess my stuff looks kind of macho, and there’s a lot of creatures and scariness. I like to think of myself as, I was in a state of arrested development working on legos and stuff when I was five, and now that I’m bigger and can build bigger things, this is is just glorified legos. So they’re really not that terrifying–they’re just terrifying as a five-year-old pretending to be a wolf or something.

Which is actually pretty terrifying.

Yes it’s actually pretty terrifying! Depending on what breed of wolf they’re pretending to be.

A dire wolf? Horrifying. What’s going on in this room? (The floor is covered in wooden plaques of mounted construction foam shapes)

I’ve always liked the idea of artifacts, so my father, when I was young, he bought a brick from the old Comiskey Park in Chicago and he had it framed. And I thought, wow, that’s a really interesting keepsake–this broken piece of a building that they took down, that represents so many memories to this idea-ness of Comiskey Park, what it was and what it became. So this is from building this show and a previous show–because these works pretty much get destroyed. I don’t have the room to store it or anything like that. So these are artifacts that hopefully people will think of it as a memento or a keepsake of the party, the fun, the witnessing of this. These are just affordable in the art realm, meant to hopefully fund some of the larger sculptures. Which, if somebody wanted to buy them, they are definitely available.

Tell me about your move to Atlanta and how it has shaped your art.

It becomes a very personal thing, moving to a city, because you want to get into something quick, otherwise you can go cuckoo. Being a flight attendant for nine years and dry-moving to a city and not having any friends, it will drive you crazy. So here, it was nice to start meeting artists really quickly, getting involved really, really quickly. And again earlier, talking about Dashboard being this marriage between friendship and art, I’ve met some amazing people here, and best friends, that quick. And we’re all here for a purpose–so even if we didn’t like each other, we’ve still got something to do. So as far as Atlanta, I can’t view it objectively anymore as a city, because I’ve got so many people I love. I guess in a way I’ve got a city that I love because I have people that I love here. I definitely don’t want to seem like I’m ripping off some of the studio artists I’ve worked with, so I’ll talk to them and say “I was making something that looked like your work, let’s do a collaboration,” and I’ll go a different direction. Sometimes people wear masks for shows and have fun and get ridiculous with it.

Boom City closes on Saturday, March 2nd, at the MRich Building: 115 Martin Luther King Jr Dr SW | Atlanta, GA 30303

Photo Credit: Mike Stasny courtesy of Dashboard Co-op, except Mike Stasny portrait by Lauren Traetto

I have never seen a space quite like this–unassuming from the outside, opening up into wide wood, skylights, iron filigrees on windows looking out at century-old water towers. The artists are inside, painting, taping, creating mesh frameworks, sketching, napping. Monstrous foam creations litter the floor; PVC pipe overflows into the hallways like one frame of a stop-motion animation. It looks like the site of a home renovation done by gremlins in a 19th century department store. At one point, two volunteers take a break from painting and practice some New Orleans bounce moves in a handstand against the wall. Everyone is stoked to be exactly where they are, including me.

The M Rich building itself is a quiet icon of Atlanta’s history. Founded over a century ago by Morris Rich, whose nephew would go on to establish the Rich’s empire, it’s a fitting choice to represent the mystery of Atlanta’s art scene, the haunting of nearly-forgotten architecture and landscape by human art. I talk to Dashboard folks Romy Maloon (Public Outreach and Project Expansion Coordinator), Craig Cameron (Programs Coordinator) and Courtney Hammond (Creative Director, Co-Founder) about the ways in which the building and location are as much a part of the show as the artwork itself.

What exactly is Boom City?

Courtney: Boom City means we are having this large explosive show with these dynamic amazing artists in the middle of the city that s surrounding us–it may not be the most happening spot right now, but it’s hopefully a spark that will ignite that to come alive in the future.

Tell me a little bit about why you chose the M Rich building, and how it relates to Dashboard’s mission.

Courtney: This is an arts space. It is owned by people overseas that have invested a lot of money and held onto it, paying monthly out of pocket to keep it open in the hopes of having an art space, instead of having law firms in here immediately or government-owned institutions that would have taken up the rent almost immediately. They’ve held onto it for a few years hoping to mold it into something that’s more beautiful and more positive in the city. We want to support that as an arts organization; we feel like our mission aligns with getting people into spaces they’ve never seen before that they could potentially be a part of.

Rather than giving the artists a theme to work through, you are showcasing what the artists are capable of here in this historical building in the city. How does this method translate into what Dashboard artists create?

Romy: One of the benefits of being a Dash artist is that because of the nature of the shows that we put on–we are a nonprofit–we’re not necessarily gearing artists toward work that we think is going to sell, or is easy or is convenient for us to install, or anything like that. We are trying to get more site-specific work, we’re trying to get more performance stuff, dancers, the kind of work that isn’t the most easy, white-walled, sell-able work.

Craig: It challenges the artists too, since they have to come in here and some of them choose to do installations; they have to react to the space and the walls. Each space we’ve been in is completely different and provides a different opportunity for the artist to expand their work and their ideas more than they traditionally would if they were provided a theme.

Courtney: It’s inspiring as a creative to walk into a space that we have to react to, rather than just being able to plop something you’ve done before into that space and that’s your installation. This is an opportunity to come in and, as an artist, be inspired yourself by a space that we feel more often than not grows better artwork. They go bigger, brighter, louder, because they’re in the moment in the location, and they live here. Mike Stasny as been here for three weeks. Stephanie Dowda was just napping in her space earlier. We get the same feeling from it too. We feel creative and inspired by a space. It becomes home for everybody. Whether you mean to or not, people start to work off of each other. You’ll find that whenever the show opens, a lot of the color pallettes are playing off of each other; they’re even playing off of the flyer. You get here and the shapes are starting to make sense with each other. Romy or Craig was saying just earlier today: in the back of your mind, everyone is starting to take a piece from each other and put it into their artwork, which makes for a really naturally organic, solid show.

And as the curators, you are doing exactly what the artists are doing–reacting to a space creatively in order to best showcase the artists’ work. Sort of curation as a form of art, right?

Craig: I find it really intriguing personally, and I may be speaking for Beth and Courtney as well, coming in here and curating a space, and the lighting; it’s not a traditional space where lighting is always the same or access is easy, and that’s like Courtney was saying, a way of coming in and being creative. You have to figure out how something is going to be placed as well.

Romy: We’re really cognizant of that too; we’ll pull all the lights out of somewhere and put our own tracks in, and paint all the walls in a space like this. We build walls if we need to. We are creating this creative space, but there’s definitely a level of professionalism and it definitely has a curated eye, which I think is really important in a big group show like that.

Can you talk a little bit about Dashboard’s plans for the future?

Courtney: We look to start traveling shows to our sister cities with Dashboard–New Orleans and New York–and also to the cities that received the Rauschenberg Grant. We thought they selected the cities that we had our eye on anyways, forward-growing cities, very interesting cities: Detroit, Providence, Portland. New Orleans was already one of those. We want to travel the shows that we have. It’s beautiful in Atlanta, but it would be great for people to see what we do in other cities.

I think we focus on keeping the doors as wide open as possible. At our last show [Nathan Sharratt’s Come Inside. Me., an installation in a vacant house], we had people come in from that area who had never even thought about going to an art show in the neighborhood, and they were there with Michael Rooks. So having those two very wide groups of people all in one space showed us that we are reaching out to a larger demographic. I think it’s more comfortable for people who have never been to an art show to come to a Dashboard show, which may spark an interest in them to start going to shows on the regular and becoming arts patrons, which would support our arts scene here.

Boom City dates to note::

Feb. 2nd: Opening Party, 7pm
Feb. 17th: Creative Loafing Party
March 2nd: Closing, with dance party and light installation

Photo Credit: Lauren Traetto

I heard you used to do some acting at Stone Mountain Park. What was that like? Did you play General Sherman?

I worked out at Stone Mountain Park for ten years. And I played many things: A bank robber, a quarryman, a mad scientist, the easter bunny, a pirate. I did my longest stint there playing a character named Deputy Sheriff Cuthbert C. Cuthbert, which had me performing with Bluegrass musicians, and hosting pie eating competitions for years. Funny enough, I’m always still sort of playing Cuthbert when I host WRITE CLUB.

The closest I ever came to playing Sherman was a couple of summers in 2002-2003 playing Robert E. Lee in a show called “The Mystery of History,” a sort of watered down, highly sanitized history of the carving.

It was a really bizarre, whimsical place to work, and I miss the people I worked with. Though I don’t miss the hours. Especially during the holidays.

How did your experience working at Stone Mountain influence your career in horror?

The line between theme park children’s theater and horror is thinner than you’d think. Both require the exact same willing suspension of disbelief, both are steeped in a certain amount of fantasy. And I fail to see how a talking Christmas tree is any less unnerving than a soul-hungry succubus. They both just want to be loved.

You are doing more writing now than acting. What has that transition been like?

I’ve been doing both in tandem for a while, but I have been leaning more toward the writing the last couple of years. Acting is more fun, but I find the writing more challenging, which ultimately makes it more rewarding. And it forces me to be alone more. Which is probably healthy. Maybe. I hope.

You’re not totally alone, though. Great things have come out of your partnership with David Bruckner. What is it like to have a writing partner who can take your work away and produce what you write?

Well, it’s great to see work that you’ve done go off and live a life away from you. And it’s really comforting to know that your words are in good hands. Bruckner and I have been writing together for six or so years now. And though we are constant thorns in each other’s asses, we trust each other and the work we do. Though really, only a tiny sliver of it has made it to screen. And those were pretty hard won victories.

Speaking of relationships, you once narrated an audiobook called The Marriage Garden: Cultivating Your Relationship So It Grows and Flourishes. Did you learn anything about cultivating relationships so they grow and flourish?

I learned mostly about gardening and making metaphors about gardening. But then, I’m not technically married. It’s not called The Living-in-Sin Garden.

Myke Johns just had an adorable little baby. Do you feel the kind of jealousy that Lady felt for the baby in Disney’s hit movie Lady and the Tramp? How long until the little guy ousts you and takes your spot as Viceroy, leaving you to sing show tunes with dirty animals on the streets?

Yeah, ever since he showed up Myke is all like, “oh, man, I love my son,” and “oh, man, he’s so cute and awesome,” which are things that he used to say about me. I mean, the kid’s okay, but he hasn’t cranked out a tight piece for the show yet. I’ll give him this: he is better looking than me, and more charming. And loveable. But no hard feelings. And I estimate that it’ll take at least six years before he’s more capable of running the show than I am. Maybe five, if they get him into a good preschool.

You get a lot of attention for Write Club. Tell us a little bit about the other people who make Write Club go, you selfish bastard.

Well, there’s Ian Belknap, our cantankerous Overlord in Chicago, who started the whole shebang and handed us the show back in 2011. He’s busy at work building the WRITE CLUB Empire, and when it comes down to it, we are but his humble (conniving, treacherous) underlings.

As far as WRITE CLUB Atlanta goes, there’s Myke, without whom this glorious enterprise never would have gotten off the ground: besides being an excellent partner to start off with, Myke made our podcast a reality, and has been excellent with outreach. When Ian asked me to host, I only agreed on the condition that Myke would partner with me. And then there’s Emily, who never ever gets enough credit but practically runs everything at this point. If you see written content on the web page, it’s gone through Emily. If you are submitting a sample so that you may grace our stage, she is the first person to read it. She does a tremendous amount of the booking (though I meddle incessantly) and makes sure the money gets from us to the charities every month. Myke and I may have gotten this on its feet here, but Emily has kept it actually moving. Also, they are both incredibly talented writers. I’ve never read or heard anything from either of them that didn’t grip me. Partnering with people that talented makes you work harder. It’s been humbling to work with them on this.

How has Write Club evolved since its inception, and what do you envision for the future of Write Club?

WRITE CLUB Inc. started in Chicago, but since has moved into San Francisco, Los Angeles, Toronto, Atlanta (of course) and Athens, GA. We’ve got podcasts and websites filled with user-generated content, and in the coming year the show will be expanding into more cities. There are plans for a WC Anthology, and there are plans for a possible extension into more mainstream media. We’ll be everywhere, soon. There will be no way to ignore us.

And then, it’s Miller Time.

Photo Credit: Zach Beiser