American Dysphoria

American Dysphoria

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American Dysphoria began with a moment of disorientation. During my study abroad in Scotland, I searched for an authentic local meal, only to find myself in front of a TGI Friday and TK Maxx. I was struck by the reach of American consumerism and how these cultural markers disrupted my expectations. This uncanny experience became the foundation for a deeper exploration: how culture, memory, and identity are shaped, exported, and felt across borders.

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This question, how ancestry shapes or complicates identity, has guided much of my work. It’s one I’ve long considered, growing up in a household where debates about race, gender, and cultural constructs were everyday conversations, often sparked by my dad’s psychology courses. Many of my friends were first- or multi-generational Americans, and I frequently listened to stories of migration and belonging. But in college, I was struck by how many expressed only disillusionment with America. My belief in its potential was often dismissed, which deepened my curiosity: Why do so many feel alienated from this country?

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In American Dysphoria, I channel these questions into an immersive, multimedia installation. Using experimental film techniques, I combine raw footage from Scotland and the U.S., personal video diaries, street interviews, ambient sound, and memoir in a hand-built cardboard maze. The viewer must navigate it physically, disoriented, as I was.

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Artistically, I draw from Pepón Osorio’s layered installations, Chris Marker’s fragmented documentary style, and Pipilotti Rist’s immersive visuals. Like Nam June Paik and Carolee Schneemann, I use distortion, masking, looping, and audio layering to question identity itself.

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Through this work, I don’t seek to resolve national identity but to reveal its complexities. I want viewers to confront confusion, rediscover empathy, and feel the potential for connection through shared dissonance. In art, as in identity, meaning is not always found in clarity, but in movement, layering, and the courage to keep asking.

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Sincerely,

Mabel Mix