Kae Burke believes service upgrades are best delivered with a smile

Name: Kae Burke

Age: 28
Hometown: Rochester, NY
Current town: Brooklyn, NY
Job description: Performer; costumer; builder
Bio: Co-founder of House of Yes and female circus troupe, Lady Circus, with Anya Sapozhnikova; founder of Make Fun sewing workshops; spearheaded a team of astute MTA Service Specialists throughout New York's subways during the MTA's fare hike in 2008
Upcoming projects: Starring in The Ambitious Show at House of Yes (Jan. 20th)
Select links: "Fun House" (Brooklyn Based); "Kae Burke and Brett Lord" (YouTube); "Maison d'Ordure" (Brooklyn Rail); "Circus of Circus"; "House of Yes" (Wikipedia)


Describe your current state of mind.


Anxious in a positive way and then tired. I’m so excited by that I’m exhausted.


Why are you anxious?


Producing a show that opens next Thursday. That’s pretty easy because that's just communicating with a lot of people and making sure everybody is on their shit like they should be. Then we're taking Lady Circus, and Bro Circus, and [Orchestra] to Austin at the end of the month. And that's like a totally new development that happened this week. And I’m training for a doubles aerial routine with Anya Sapozhnikova that I've never done before. 
Tell me about your role at House of Yes.


For this incarnation me and Anya were partners on the space, so we've been here since Day One.


After the house burnt down, it wasn't a commune, it wasn't a community. I don't know what the word really is. It sounded hippy-ish. But it was a group of people who were down to make this building and cause happen. One by one, people went their separate ways, and we've stuck together. We’ve always been the partners of this space, but when there are so many people contributing, it's hard to say. You don’t want to take that title when there are so many people working.


But there's always hierarchy. There's someone that's always doing more than other people. I think half of the original crew moved out West. Some peeled off. Some wanted to support the space, but not be involved in the boiler room, so to speak. We’ve always trusted each other. There has never been a question of like: "What is this?" or "Is this a partnership?" Once the last one moved out West, we were like; "Wow, now this is our business.” It's great to check each other, if we are unsure of a decision. You don't have to do that alone, you can discuss that with somebody who knows you, and who knows the history of what's better for this space. 


How did you and Anya meet?


I met her through my best friends in Rochester. We were in high school and she went to this kind of upper-crust suburban high school, but she wasn't upper-crust, necessarily.


I went to the boonie high-school; it was 45 minutes away from the city. We were really into ska and punk music - like wearing checkers and bowling shoes and going to cool kids shows. My friends met her when a show got busted and she needed a ride home . We were 16 and hanging around with this 21-year-old guy who happened to have a car; he was a total loser, of course.  He ended up taking her home, dropping her off at her place, and my friends were enamored with her. They were like: "Oh my God, you have to meet this hot Russian girl. She’s so much fun; her name's Anna.” I think this was before her name got changed back to Anya. 


 So I knew Anya as “hot Russian girl.” [But] she got grounded because she was hanging out with some cool guys or something, so I didn’t see her for six months. Then we would AIM, back when that was totally cool. We went and saw a movie with another friend, and then we just hit it off. It was that “love at first sight” thing, but friends at first sight, where you’re just like: “Wow! I’ve never met someone who’s just as excited about things as I am.” 


Have you ever had any major disagreements?


To be honest, we've never had a huge blowout. We have small disagreements all the time. I think this wall should be brown, and she thinks this wall should be gray. To give you an example, I went to Thailand for three months and left her with a ton of work. I was like: "Oh, I am going out into the world, ‘cause I am my own person,” and she [said:] "You're supposed to be my partner on this space." I [said:] "I am your partner on this space, but I'm not cleaning up the vomit currently." That was probably like the biggest disagreement. It was more like a conversation.


That’s interesting given that running a business with a friend can sometimes lead to a falling out.


Before the house burned down, we had an original space called Boring Incorporated.
Anya got the lease for House of Yes. I did not want to go with her on the lease because I felt that we were disconnected at that point. She was doing other things and I had different goals. It was a hiatus, if you will, a breathing period.


She wanted me on the lease, and I [said:] " I'm going to go travel, and take this workshop in Vermont...I’m not really sure about doing this right now.” She’s never really held that against me. It was never like a “You weren’t there!” because I was always there helping and hanging out. I just wasn't on the lease. That was a couple months where we weren’t BFF every day. 
We’ve been together for like eight years, so I feel like that’s a pretty high measure of sustainability.


How did Lady Circus come about?


Lady Circus was Anya’s inspiration, originally, to have a girl band but as circus performers. It started from these friends we met. We all kind of did something. I hula hoop. I kind of do Poi. This was five years ago. and oh like I kind of do Poi and because this was, I mean this was 5 years ago. We kind of stilt walk. We did all of these things, but it wasn’t like we did them at the professional level that we do now. Looking back at it, I would be like: “Oh yeah, slightly embarrassing.”


We were marketed as an eight-women circus troupe with a finite number of members, and then through going in our own directions, creatively, we realized that we’d all make more money if we were a production company; it would open us up to more clients if we’re like: “Lady Circus is a brand and it is a service that provides this really amazing entertainment for any event.” That’s the short story of how it went from point A to point B. 


As a costumer, how would you describe your aesthetic? What inspires
your style? 


It's hard to really pin down a specific style or aesthetic, as it's always evolving and changing. Also, I would say that a lot of my work has been commission-based recently, so although there is creative problem solving and a lot of style going into it, it's not exactly an original idea of inspiration. It's just making a project come to life. 


When it does come to my work, I would say the go-to look is fancy and fantasy, with a bit of ridiculous thrown in. When it's Lady Circus costumes, it's always about sex and decadence. But I've also made: sequin genital sweaters; badass gladiator unitards; fancy bird costumes; huge foam dinosaurs; huge inflatable wearable balls. 


I would say the Sequin Genital Sweaters (Semen & Sequins) are my favorites, simply because it wasn't for a commission. It was pure inspired fun, humor and ridiculousness. They ended up being a hit at this art auction and I got a private commission out of it! As far as "professional" work though, it's a tie between the Yes Men Surivivaballs and Gali the
Alligator video.


Name some materials that you enjoy working with.


Spandex. Foam. Sequins. Humor.


Tell me about the origins of Make Fun.


It’s funny how everything changes. The first space was the basement in Bed-Stuy, formerly Boring Incorporated. It was a complete dream come true and in retrospect, it was such a mediocre nightmare. 


We were like: “Wow! I can’t believe we live in the mold-filled cesspool – basically, the ghetto. We thought we were so awesome because we were free, being highly creative, and had all this space. We didn’t have ceiling space, but we had lateral space. 


That was where Make Fun originally started. I had all this fabric and sewing machines and was like: "I want other people to come sew.” When I moved to New York, I wanted somewhere to go to hang out and make stuff, and there wasn't a place like that, that I knew of, at least.” So I created this thing. “Be the change you want to see."


I had these workshops going on. At first they were free; it was centered around the freegan community. And then my older, cynical friend [said:] “Um, so you're just letting these crusty motherfuckers suck all your resources out?” And I’m like: “But I love it.” She’s like: “Well, you should at least have a suggested donation.” 


So I started doing suggested donations, moving to the first House of Yes. It was definitely $10, but no one was turned away if they couldn’t afford it. It was every Tuesday and became pretty constant. 


Then it really changed. The current incarnation of House of Yes was the next level of professionalism. We were so in debt and were trying to bring everything to the next level. You just have to charge money. I felt like I could offer more. Our machines were higher quality. We had more fabric. There was more space to make stuff; it was a pretty serious studio. So people got their money’s worth.


I was doing that and then all of a sudden I realized that I was selling myself out by teaching people how to not hire me, because I’m a freelance costume designer. I realized that although people were having a great time and using all these great materials, [they were] breaking my machines. I hate to bitch but it was like: “Here’s my dream and this really isn’t providing anything for myself.”


I mean, I got some money but it wasn’t necessarily about the money. I realized that what I really needed was to be my own artist - and not a teacher. I have no problem with teaching but I realized like I didn’t have the resources, the time, the energy and the mindset to be a creative artist, to accomplish my own projects. I was so busy cleaning up after other people, like fixing machines that got broken [and] replenishing materials that got used. It’s kind of sad talking about it. It was such a beautiful time but it had to pass so that I could develop as a person and not burn out.


What’s the compromise between selling yourself without selling out?


For me, it would be teaching strict classes. [Make Fun] was an open workshop. I’m considering getting back into it because now I have my own studio elsewhere, outside House of Yes. 


Maybe it will be a once a month, a little workshop where I do three classes and it’s a learn-to-sew thing. I could use this [House of Yes] studio [for] the public. 3rd Ward has the learn-to-sew thing down. What I’m more interested in is when people have these materials and they can be experimental until they figure out what they’re doing. That’s what the workshop was more about. It wasn’t necessarily a class.


Now that I’ve separated my own special world of artistry, I can now see what is left over for the community, which is pretty cool. What’s beautiful is I can get someone else to run it. I feel like part of maturity is delegating, the new people who are looking for that creativity. I don’t want to lose that. It is really empowering.


How do you teach people and not give away all of your secrets?


What I figured out is it’s quality over quantity with everything. I can’t really think of an example where that’s not true. I’d rather have an apprentice who I can really see through the process and teach all these things to, rather than talk to a room of 20 people and then they all kind of, sort of get it, maybe.


I’d rather work side by side with somebody for months at a time, because I learn from them as much as they learn from me; that’s the whole point of the situation. It’s hard to say if that’s selfish as much as it’s just practical. You’re not teaching everybody, but they’ll still figure it out. My personal path is to have an assistant. I can embed them with all the information and the they can pass it on to someone else, too. It’s viral in that way; it doesn’t have to be like preaching to thousands of people on how to make a headpiece.


Like trying to have a lot of people keep pace with each other or a democratic decision-making process.


Totally. That’s why it worked better. House of Yes would not work if it was a democratic, communal society. We had eight people at meetings at one point; we had the original crew. Oh my God, that did not work at all; it was so annoying. Nothing would get done. There would be fights. People would leave. You remember the most awful points. Those are the ones that stick out in your head. It’s so much easier when it’s just me and another person: “Hey, is this a good idea? Oh, it is. Great, let’s do it.” Or, “It’s not? Okay, nevermind.” It’s much simpler than trying to please everybody or go with the majority.


It is better when you have a [silent] Board of Directors. For example, we’re three people because we need that one vote to tip the scale; we really trust his opinion and vision for the future of the space. 


What have you learned from freeganism?


I think there is nothing better than making your own world, but sometimes you have to live inside the beast to kill it. You can bike but sometimes you have to pay that $2.25 to take the train. That’s just how it is. You don’t have to be an anarchist. It doesn’t have to be 100 percent. You can be very conscious about what you make for yourself, but it doesn't have to rule your world. Because it might end up destroying it. 


I see people who can't get the idea of making rent; they are so deep into making their own practice that they don't understand that they just have to make the bill. It's like I know you're an artist. I know you are awesome. Just pay the rent. Sometimes if you play by a couple of the rules you can have more power, more energy and more resources to have a greater impact. 
Tell me about how you became an MTA Specialist. 


That was one of my favorite things because it was one of these ideas that I have had for a really long time. We had been talking about it at the breakfast table and [we were] like: “Let’s do it next week.” I was afraid to do it. I didn't know how to do it. You don’t know how to do it? Well, you try and then you figure it out while you are trying. You are not going to figure it out while thinking about it. It was really a joke: performance and art as humor. I thought that was really special and powerful.


[The project] put "Service Specialists," who looked a lot like stewardesses, on the subway. Which is somewhat like an airplane. It drew that parallel and making everyone's ride more comfortable. It's such a fun part of taking a flight. I must've been on a plane or coming off [one]. I think I was taking the A train from JFK when I had the original seed of the idea. I was like: “Man, I wish there was stewardesses on the train ‘cause they're so cute. They are like these surrogate moms. They give you water and food and they're so nice!"


The idea wasn't originally politically eschewed, but right around the time when I was telling my friends this, we realized what was happening with the MTA fare hike [for] service improvements. It was the right time so it was probably better that I waited for long enough. 
The idea was like you don't really need all this money to improve service. You can improve service with a smile; you don't need that to improve people's experiences on the train.
The train’s always going to be late. I don't care how much they improve it, like there's always going to be something wrong with the train. Somebody’s always going to be holding up the train; that’s inevitable. But people being kind to each other, and just playful makes it more fun: “The MTA hired service specialists as part of their service improvements.” It was satirical in that case. Instead of being directly positive, it was a little bittersweet. All the extra money that you guys are spending is just going to a couple of girls with some cute dresses. We’re improving service!


How did people react? Did they get it?


People totally got it. I'd say we had 25 percent of the people took us seriously and asked us questions. Some people ignored us because they're New Yorkers and that's what they do. Some people were so excited and thought it was cute. Some people were like: “Is this a fashion shoot?” There was a lot of mixed curiosity. 


But if you anyone asked, we’d be like: “Oh no, we’re here improving service on the subway. We’re here with the MTA and we’re your Service Specialists so if there’s anything we can do, let us know how we can help.” We had hand sanitizer, snacks, water and newspapers. It was a real stewardess thing.
What year was that?


2008 ‘cause our house burned down a week later. After we did this, we were going to be in The New York Times. We were going to do another walk through the subway, another action, on Thursday. Then on Tuesday, the house burned down. So we had to call up the Times contact: “Sorry, I think we have more important things to do, right now.” 


We had one dress that didn’t burn ‘cause our friend took it on a trip.


Can you talk about your secret dinner, as part of the Underbelly Project? 


I was on a train reading the Nonsense list and there was this little esoteric blurb at the bottom, a "secret party" but you have to "write an essay." I was on a train coming from Hudson, New York. I was like: “I've got time." So I wrote this little essay on the train. The essay was suppose to be [address:] "If you could take anyone to a secret dinner, just for the two of you, who would it be?"  I said my roommate at the time, who I wouldn’t call an old-timer, but he’s a patriotic man. 
He had been producing events in this fabulous community since the eighties. He didn’t know too much about the Brooklyn underground. He’s produced events for Dirty Harry, but I wanted to take him to like a secret dinner so I could show him this other thing. We had a secret meet up spot before we were taken [to the location]. He realized that he had to be in this pitch black subway tunnel. He was so not okay with that. He called himself an old white woman He was like: "No, I don't think I could." So I called Anya. 
Anya is usually stacked busy, [but] she was totally available. She had just got done doing something. She was like: "I'm free, what's going on?" I [said:] "I need you to come to this address right now." She was like: "Why?" I was like: "When can you be here?" She had no idea what was going on.
I was like: “I'll explain when you get here, just get here! Oh, and wear formal attire." So she puts on a black dress and I already had my black dress on.
It was so nice because at that point we were both really busy. We weren’t hanging out a lot. We had this homemade dinner by Jeff Stark in this abandoned subway. Which happened to be in this international gallery of some of the craziest, amazing street artists ever. All different styles, nationalities, [and] mediums. It was almost a gallery for artists by artists. I'm sure the guy who did it and organized it can correct me on this, but what I thought was interesting was that street art is usually meant to be seen by the public. It was the most non-public thing that could possibly happen. I felt incredibly honored.


What food was served?


Paella. Some salad. I think raspberry and goat cheese. Nice wine. We had an orange pastry. Then we had some steamed vegetables. We packed up on our way out of the subway, and I think we stayed in pitch darkness for another hour, just sitting there in the damp underground craziness because there was track construction. I remember seeing the table, plates and broken glass on the ground. Then I saw a photograph and said: “I think that’s Kae Burke.” That’s so funny. My friend, Hackett, took a picture. He’s like: "Is this you?" It was bizarre.  I think Hackett thought that someone went in and destroyed it. But it could have also been [that] things fall over [or] ghosts. 


What brought you to New York?


I went to FIT for fashion school, and it was relatively cheap. I actually wanted to move to Chicago or Philadelphia for school, originally, but I came to New York - and even though I was totally intimidated - when I was 18, I ended up falling in love with it.


Where would you want to live if you didn't live in NYC? 


Cambodia. Definitely. Its the weirdest place in the world.


What's your idea of happiness?


It's a feeling and it comes at different times for all sorts of different reasons for me. I feel like there are different flavors of "happy." There is the happiness of accomplishment, like when you pull off a really huge show that you are proud of. There is the happiness from seeing a weird kid on the street wearing something really funny with ice cream all over his face.
The happiness of your favorite song on the radio, or someone trying on
a dress you made and they look amazing in it. Sometimes it happens for
no reason, sometimes you make the feeling happen and sometimes to
happens and it just hits you.


What's difficult?


Trying to prioritize, finding time for myself and inspiration, and staying motivated and focused. Its always most tricky in the winter.


If you could change a moment, what would it be? 


I'm pretty happy currently and I wouldn't want to risk changing anything from the past. Things always work themselves out, so even the worst moments were pretty awesome in retrospect. Actually, thinking about it now, I would probably have stopped sleeping with my ex once the relationship was over. Can I say that here? It's pretty much like listening to a skipping record and pretending you like it even though it's really
annoying. I guess that is just unhealthy and stagnant as a pattern. Eh,
live and learn, I guess. Yeah, I would change that.


Describe your eating habits. 


I eat at cafes a lot because it's a nice break from House of Yes or my studio. I also sit and do emails, and eat soup. I eat a lot of soup. Or,drink soup. Or, whatever you do to soup. I like pizza and comfort food. I eat chicken and pork, not really into beef. I wish I cooked more, but it's really not a priority in my life right now.


What's your greatest fear?


That's a hard one. I guess being abandoned, deserted and alone forever. Solitary confinement.


What would you want to do if you weren't doing what you're doing?


Teaching disadvantaged children, fighting sexual slavery. Or, being a
backup dancer for Beyonce.


What are some misconceptions about who you are and/or what you do? 


I'm actually pretty sensitive. And I used to be painfully shy and awfully
insecure.


What's romantic? 


Fire flies. Moonlight. Wine. Bubble baths. Eyes.


What's tragic? 


Injustice in all its forms. Dishonesty. Innocent people being blamed and exploited.


How strong are your political views? 


NOT strong. It's funny you should ask, because we are about to do a
political variety show at House of Yes. It's going to be hilarious
because politics are kind of a joke. I hate injustice and politics
just create bullshit from what I can tell. It's gross. So it's fun to
make fun of. Anyway, I'm going to be MCing as Michele Bachmann.


And your religious views?


I believe in energy and love. I don't think that's religious...but it's something.