Never underestimate the power of art to heal — or throw a creator’s life into temporary disarray.
Seven years have passed since Denton singer-songwriter and visual artist Claire Morales last released an album (2018’s All That Wanting). While much of that time has been spent crafting the expansive, intricate and wholly mesmerizing follow-up Lost in the Desert, which arrives Aug. 19, Morales has also been contending with the aftermath of Wanting.
“I just — you know, I think sometimes art has power,” Morales said during a recent conversation from an Oregon tour stop. “Yeah, unintended consequences happen.”
Morales declined to elaborate further, but there’s a sense, within the majestic, multi-faceted Desert, of an intense reckoning, a feeling of an artist coming to grips with herself, the wider world and how those two things exist.
“There was an internal and external reckoning,” Morales said. “It’s like fighting your own demons, and also trying to understand the world and process it and also combat it in some ways, like the things you feel powerless to oppose. I think art’s a really safe way to do that, and also maybe a way other people can enjoy and relate to and feel less alone.”
The 10-track Desert, co-produced by Morales and her bandmate Alex Hastings, will be accompanied by a graphic novella, as well as music videos, like the single-take marvel for lead single “Champion.”
Ahead of a July 19 hometown gig at Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios, I spoke with Morales about the boundaries between artistic disciplines, refusing to pass judgment on her self-expression and the value of her close-knit creative community in Denton. The following conversation has been lightly edited and condensed.
This is something which always fascinates me when I talk with artists who work in multiple disciplines — do you feel like you differentiate between “Oh, now I’m expressing myself in this mode” or is just all of a piece to you?
I think it’s all of a piece to me. The medium is … not even that relevant. It’s all the same thing, just in different ways.
Are there things you feel like you articulate better in, say, the graphic novella, versus a song versus a video for that song?
Oh, definitely, yeah. I feel like with the visuals, it’s like world-building. I think visuals are a little more intuitive for everyone, in a way where it’s like “Here it is,” whereas maybe things that are less literal or maybe something that has less of an image can be expressed in a song, like feelings and emotions and vibes and all of that. To me, the graphic novella is sort of like the map.
Are there moments of surprise for you? Because obviously, you’re helping steer this in terms of all the different modes of expression — but is there an element of surprise in there?
Absolutely — there’s definitely some surprise. There are things that come out and … I don’t necessarily ask why or where they came from. I just let them come and then sometimes … months later, years later, I’m like, “That’s what that was about. That’s what I was doing.” Art is strange that way. I think it can kind of cut through a lot, maybe things you’re not willing to admit or face or articulate clearly can come out in a way that’s sort of mysterious and hopefully beautiful.
And it’s probably challenging, because you want to be in a judgment-free zone when that’s happening, right? Do you find yourself, in a weird way, pushing yourself — “Maybe I haven’t gone far enough, or maybe I haven’t dug deep enough,” or do you let it come and let it be what it is?
I think I do [let it come and be what it is]. It’s a mix of both. Some songs are … let it come; this is what it is. Others, it starts with one line and sort of [a feeling of] “What is that? What am I getting at there? What am I trying to say?” It’s a little bit more of a chipping away at something. … Those can be songs that take months or probably even years sometimes, just depending on the song. I used to get really frustrated by that but … learning about the brain, I think there’s a lot of subconscious work that gets done, and I think you just have to let it come sometimes and trust.
Having performed with your band for a long time probably makes it easier to take risks and try big swings, but there’s also the creative community you’re part of in Denton — what does it meant to you to have those two different sources of support, which live within one another?
With my band, it does feel like we’re in it together, and we’re, like, comrades or something, and it feels like a safe place — but also somewhere where I can go, “Hey, is this working?” … I think having that community is pretty invaluable. How else will you know if … something could be resonating for me, but if it doesn’t really have an effect beyond that, it’s probably not the best it could be.
Claire Morales performing as part of KUZU Revolution 8 at Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios, Denton. 7 p.m. July 19. Tickets are $23.80.
Preston Jones is a North Texas freelance writer and regular contributor to KXT. Email him at [email protected] or find him on Bluesky (@prestonjones.bsky.social).Our work is made possible by our generous, music-loving members. If you like how we lift up local music, consider becoming a KXT sustaining member right here.
