Tim Miller’s Quest for ‘Golden States’

Tim Miller steps up a steep path from his pied-a-terre to his vegetable garden in Silver Lake and points to the new planting he’s just done. Its future crops--zucchini and carrots--are very much on his mind. They even figure prominently in the latest installment of his staged autobiography, “Some Golden States,” opening Saturday at the Cast Theater in Hollywood.

But then no one should be surprised to learn that this Milan Kundera of dance-based performance art merely wants to make his garden grow, the way Candide did. After all, these are devastating times for those who live in the Golden State, what with earthquakes and plagues--spelled AIDS.

And while Miller says that nothing is terribly different--”I’ve always been aware of the fragility of life”--he now admits he feels “more like a cultural worker than ever.

“It’s a wartime atmosphere, the apocalypse now. And it’s hard not to be grateful for bringing politically and culturally useful issues into public awareness.”

These are natural inclinations for the 29-year-old native of Whittier. His forays into the confessional branch of performance art have typically been what he calls “quest sagas,” attempts to work through and document his own particular take on the universe. He also sees the desire to tell one’s story as “our American fascination with ourselves and the whole fictive process.”

In his case, there’s plenty to be fascinated with. Miller conjures up the image of a zany Kundera and WASP Woody Allen. No false reverence or soap-opera sloppiness for him. Serious, yes. One’s mortality filtered through one’s art asks for a responsible stand. And, as an avowed homosexual, Miller hardly shies away from the added burden this imposes. But his energy and imagination--with a superabundance of both--keep him thoroughly engaged.

“I’m compulsively committed to working in this interdisciplinary form,” he says, “especially with the specter of AIDS looming. How to pass through such a cataclysmic experience--and I don’t mean just the fact of death, but its macabre selectivity--takes a major effort.

“There is an unbelievable existentialness in who gets AIDS and who doesn’t. It’s got an odd agenda, attacking the already disempowered the way it does. It’s science-fictiony with its long incubation period. And I don’t dare think what it means culturally--something like a decapitation of the arts.”

His launching into “Some Golden States” was triggered by three events that caused an upheaval in his life six months ago.

A very close friend died and Miller attended the funeral in New York. The day after he returned-- devastated by the loss--an earthquake left Whittier a shambles. “My favorite book store and record shop no longer exist,” he says.

And the following day, Miller’s boyfriend was viciously attacked (“a case of queer-bashing,” says Miller). He barely staved off the blows of an unknown assailant’s two-by-four, arriving home with blood streaming from his face and head.

“In the light of all this,” says the autobiographer, “it’s not surprising that ‘Golden States’ would be about death and disaster, although it doesn’t leave out absurdity altogether.”

But it also is emblematic of the other touchstones of his life. For instance, the zucchini and carrot that represent Damocles’ sword and even the shape of California itself in “Some Golden States” symbolize the male sex organ, Miller explains.

“Sex, after all, is a major reference point for late adolescent entry into the adult world,” he says. “And it focuses the gay sensibility. And as the bottom line it stands for physicality--which is the essence of life. What I try to do is place the personal experience within its sociocultural context. Alternate the micro and macro aspects of human reality.”

Given the importance of his work, not just as art but as a statement of social relevance, Miller says he doesn’t consider personal ambition so keenly as he might have before AIDS. Nevertheless, he’s gained enough accolades to take him onto an international circuit. This summer “Buddy Systems” (which Miller calls “a specific one-person surgical memoir of adolescence”) tours Italy and “Golden States” travels to New York and North Carolina.

First recognized in New York, where he took part in the performance art scene and lived from 1978 to 1986, Miller says he does not want to be lured again into the large-scale extravaganza that characterized his “Democracy in America” in 1984.

“I’m skeptical of Darwinian progressions,” he says, back on the question of priorities. “Worrying about how to cross-breed the avant-garde with Broadway doesn’t result in my best work.

“Besides, AIDS makes the drive for material success a moot point. Whether I earn $10,000 or $100,000 doesn’t matter anymore. What is important is the fact that I’m doing exactly the work I should be doing. It’s the best of me and the best for me--because it is useful.”