Larry Clark comes to Quebec City and reminds me not to give a fuck. 

Remember the movie Kids? You know, with all the fucking, drinking teenagers? That movie shocked me when I saw it at the innocent age of 15. But I loved it. I loved it because it presented kids just like the ones in my neighborhood – mostly my brother’s friends, who used to have crazy parties at my house while my single mom was busy working two jobs.

I loved it because it was raw and honest. I loved it because after awhile it was banned from the video store I used to walk to and we couldn’t find it anymore.

I love it because Larry Clark doesn’t care. He doesn’t care what you think or what I think. He speaks for “degenerates,” he makes art out of little known realities. “This is what’s happening.”

Life isn’t all pearls and garden clubs. People, yes even teenagers do drugs, have sex, get addicted to various substances, struggle, murder, commit suicide. He has the balls to show it.

Larry Clark came to Quebec City and I attended his master’s class and viewed the film for the first time in 15 years. It made me more uncomfortable this time because I’m an adult now and watching kids do whipits and have sex is horrifying. It’s not me anymore – these are teenagers, all pointy limbs and filthy mouths and tight tee shirts.

He explained the film, how it was purposely shot in a documentary style. How he used real teenagers because it looks fake when directors use 29-year-olds to play teenagers. How he “dropped acid” with them in the park.

Clark is devisive for sure. Every other word was “fuck.” But he said he doesn’t make art for the audience. He doesn’t care who he isolates. He just does what he thinks needs to be done, says what needs to be said. It’s inspiring, especially at this time in my life when I am feeling so bogged down, jaded, and oppressed.

I am a writer but I’m no longer punk rock (was I ever? asks the nerdy little girl inside me). I need to make money, so I write things that will make me money, and it’s starting to get to me. I compromise often and too willingly. That’s not ok.