"[Gaga Stigmata has] very modern, edgy photography to free flowing, urban narratives without censure to analytical essays, et cetera—like Gaga, imagination without ... limits. And the beauty is that anyone can submit work to the site, so artists and writers from all over the [world] have joined this experiment." -The Declaration.org

"Since March 2010, [Gaga Stigmata] has churned out the most intense ongoing critical conversation on [Lady Gaga]."
-Yale's The American Scholar

Friday, February 18, 2011

2011: Gagalations

By Meghan Blalock

When Alvin Ailey’s Revelations debuted in 1960, it swiftly became one of the most widely known pieces of modern dance. The original piece, inspired by what Ailey called “blood memories” from his childhood in Texas, was more than an hour long, choreographed to both traditional and modern spirituals so as to depict the spiritual journey from slavery to freedom through faith. The styles of dance in Revelations are eclectic, ranging from more classical ballet postures (deep plies, arabesques, Chaînés, and pirouettes), to the innovative use of back-lit silhouettes, boxed elbows, and bladed hands that would become Ailey’s signatures. Eventually whittled down to just around thirty minutes, the piece has inspired dancers and creators for more than fifty years – including Lady Gaga’s most recent foray into pop culture, “Born This Way.”

From her claims that the song came to her through “immaculate conception” to her innumerable references to the song as “bad kids going to church in a big way,” Gaga hasn’t exactly tried to conceal the fact that she thinks “Born This Way” (and her subsequent album, to be released in May) is spiritual in nature; even the song’s lyrics refer to “capital H-i-m” and backing vocals murmur “church” over and over again. Gaga has presented “Born This Way” as the modern-day spiritual meant to free the tormented from their binds; namely, gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgendered, women, and those among us who are “beige,” just to name a few. Here, I will argue that with her Grammy performance, Gaga has reaffirmed this intention by directly paying homage to Revelations.

The final version of Revelations, and the one still performed today, is comprised of three movements. The first, “Pilgrim of Sorrow,” is an homage to traditional slave spirituals. It depicts the incredible sorrow of slave life: dancers stick together in close formations and look to the sky, reaching with open hands and using their entire bodies to stretch upward, signifying that they are asking God and their faith for strength and guidance. The entire movement is minimally lit, in yellow or earth tones. The second movement, “Take Me To The Water,” is a more joyous piece that depicts the dancers’ pilgrimage to a river where they will baptize and purify themselves. This movement symbolizes their first taste of freedom from the sorrow and pain of their enslaved existences. The last movement, “Move, Members, Move!”, is a celebration of life after the dancers have achieved freedom, set to modern-day spirituals like “Rock-a My Soul.” It is also the movement from which Lady Gaga and her co-creators took the most (though not the exclusive) inspiration for her Grammy performance.

“Move, Members, Move!” opens with a trio of male dancers before a single female dancer takes the stage. Wearing a yellow dress and hat, and carrying a fan, she begins dancing in front of a red backdrop with – dare I say it – an egg-shaped halo of light to her right. Soon she is joined by other women in the same dresses, donning the same hats, and they dance in unison. The choreography here is nothing short of triumphant, with stomping feet, swinging arms, and levels that mirror the rises and falls of the music. The fact that Gaga was inspired by these visuals is fairly obvious.

Gaga’s latex top and skirt mimics the long dresses worn by the women in Revelations. Her dancers emerge in similar outfits, suggesting that she sees them as her equals, as her fellow freed slaves. The jacket she wears during part of her performance is similar to the button-front dresses worn in some stagings of Ailey’s ballet. The yellow hat is nearly identical to the one worn by the freed slave women in Revelations. The modernization of the costumes – the use of latex, minimalist at that – reflects Gaga’s own aesthetic and emphasizes that this performance is not Revelations – it’s Revelations for the 21st  century.

The visuals – the costuming, staging, and lighting – are not the only aspects of Gaga’s “Born This Way” performance that directly reference Ailey’s ballet. The choreography is strongly reminiscent of Revelations’ trademark movements, especially those found in “Pilgrim of Sorrow.”


The formation of Ailey’s dancers here – huddled closely together, with one central figure in the front – clearly influence the ending formation of Gaga’s “Born This Way” performance. The motions of her and her dancers’ bodies – all moving together in unison – are taken directly from Ailey’s  choreography. The dancers replicate Ailey’s classic open-palmed, spread-finger reach to the sky (shown below), done in such low lighting that the performers’ faces aren’t even visible. While Ailey’s dancers go into deep plies and lean their torsos and open hands toward the ground, Gaga and her dancers go into deep plies and lean their torsos while grasping on to each other.

They then come back up and reach for the sky again, finishing the performance in the classic Ailey pose, but with a twist – instead of spead-finger palms reaching toward the sky, they reach with monster paws, at which point the lights are finally brought up and their faces made visible.

While the choreography during the group formation is a clear homage to “Pilgrim of Sorrow,” it seems that much of the choreography leading up to the performance’s conclusion is taken from the third section of Revelations, “Move, Members, Move!”

As Gaga emerges from the vessel and later during the synchronized choreography that begins the chorus of the song (beginning with “I’m beautiful in my way”), much of BTW’s choregoraphy reflects the ballet technique, wide second-position plies, and reverent stomping that characterizes the third section of Revelations. Right before Gaga breaks into her “rap” portion of the song, during which she encourages us to be “queens,” whether we are “broke or evergreen,” all the dancers form a single file behind her, which the dancers in Revelations do as well, to do eight counts of tendues, traditional ballet warmups. After her break at the organ (which, by the way, was a tangent into Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor as well as an homage to a fortune teller head who lives inside a crystal ball at the Disney Haunted Mansion), Gaga heads back down to the stage to join her dancers, who promptly start removing their clothing – their slave garb, if you will – as she puts her jacket back on. While Ailey’s dancers remain clothed, and in fact get progressively more so from the beginning of the ballet to the end, it’s no mystery by this point that Gaga is not only paying homage to Revelations – she’s turning it on its head.

Ailey’s dancers progress from barely clothed in skin-hugging leotards to wearing full church regalia with hats, flowing dresses, and fans; Gaga’s dancers progress from full latex dresses to nothing but nude-colored underwear. Ailey’s sections progress from slavery to freedom achieved through spirituality; Gaga’s choreography suggests a regression from the third section back to the first. In order to understand why Gaga and her creative director, Laurieann Gibson, chose to do this, we should look at the meanings of the performances in the contexts of their debuts.

Revelations debuted in January 1960, at the height of the African-American Civil Rights Movement. Eight years before his assassination, Martin Luther King, Jr. was still actively speaking, and sit-ins were happening regularly. It was still four years before the signing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 into law, which would ban discrimination on the basis of “race, color, religion, sex or national origin” in employment practices and public accommodations, but the sense of imminent change was in the air. It was inescapable, one and the same with the zeitgeist. Ailey was no doubt inspired by this feeling, and elements of the ballet – including its build from sorrow to triumph – illustrate that he was likely in the throes of profound hopefulness for racial equality. Also, it’s important to note that Revelations debuted at the 92Y in New York City, undoubtedly in front of a liberal audience who shared this hopefulness.

“Born This Way” premiered in February 2011, just a couple months after Congress’ official repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the law banning homosexuals from being open in the military, and one of the most blatant examples of government-supported discrimination still on the books. Gaga’s performance came after a seemingly never-ending deluge of headlines reporting teen suicides over bullying on account of their homosexuality. And while Gaga likely sees that we are definitely in the midst of a huge movement to abolish discrimination against people based on gender issues – women, gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgendered, queers – perhaps she also sees that we have a long way to go. And unlike Ailey, she and the Haus were not performing in front of a small group who (likely) share their beliefs; they were performing on national television, most certainly in front of people who do not share the beliefs espoused in “Born This Way.” So while her performance progresses in reverse order from Ailey’s, it is not so much a statement of regression from freedom to slavery as it is a way to flip Ailey’s purpose on its head: Ailey was expressing his hopefulness about achieving racial equality to a room of sympathetic viewers, while Gaga actually aims to create a new race that is entirely free of discrimination. She does so by visually creating a new species of people with protruding facial and shoulder bones. Ailey aimed at racial equality and the triumph it would bring; Gaga aims at a race of equality and the togetherness it will create. This is her revelation.

“Born This Way,” both the song and the debut performance at the Grammys, is certainly a joyful hymn: the song concludes as a Church-like spiritual, with Gaga’s voice layered on top of itself, and clapping to mimic a choir. But Gaga’s homage to Revelations (established by BTW’s choreography, costuming, and lighting) also reverses certain elements of Ailey’s ballet, and therefore functions as a challenge to monsters to band together, establish a nondiscriminant race, and show the rest of the world that being yourself is the true path to spiritual freedom – so the entire world can join the choir.

Author Bio:
Meghan Blalock is a writer living in New York City. She writes for Gotham magazine, and has also written pieces for the local music blog Sound System NYC, The Rumpus, Southern Living, Gaga Stigmata, Woman's Day, and other publications. Her poetry has also been published in amphibi.us. Her work is viewable here and here.

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Sunday, February 13, 2011

Lady Gaga & Andy Warhol

By Sam Perry

Director's Statement: I have a fascination with Andy Warhol and Lady Gaga. They have so many similarities and I wanted to display that in a visual way. It is easy to critique visual art through text, but the greatest way to critique something is through the same form that it is produced in. All of the videos I used are simply snippets of Gaga and Warhol's portfolios, mostly leaning toward their public personas. The use of Basquait's art was only to remind the viewer that Warhol worked as a catalyst for other people and for commercial products, just as Gaga has done as an advocate and with products like Polaroid. 

Bio: Sam Perry is a Pittsburgh-based, green-friendly artist with an interactive, mixed-media gallery opening April of 2011 called "Welcome to SamSamland: Don't Wear Black to My Funeral." Learn more about his project and how you can get involved at samsamland.com.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Djaala/Torveeda/Khilii 7 ["A Poison Tree"] & Hélyos 6 ["A Poison Tree"]

by Tommy Mayberry

Djaala/Torveeda/Khilii 7 ["A Poison Tree"], 2010
Conceptual Artist/Model: Tommy Mayberry
Photographic Artist: Tina Weltz, MPA, LPPO
Hair and Make-up Artist: Jessica Barber

Calla Studio
Digital Image

Hélyos 6 ["A Poison Tree"], 2010
Conceptual Artist/Model: Tommy Mayberry
Photographic Artist: Tina Weltz, MPA, LPPO
Hair and Make-up Artist: Jessica Barber

Calla Studio
Digital Image

Artist Statement:
To borrow Richard Dyer’s words, I work in the “nexus of authenticity.” I combine concepts of narcissism and celebrity culture as I seek [artistically] to sell myself (in an exploration of the philosophy of conceit and artificiality) as a pseudo-celebrity. Primarily housed out of Calla Studio (www.callastudio.ca), I use myself as the model and work with a team of aesthetic artists (Photographic and Hair and Make-up) to construct the performances and images. My work follows in the vein of Canadian conceptual artists such as David Buchan and General Idea, but it is, at its centre, a hard-on fusion of William Blake and Lady Gaga.

As a writer, I am interested in the crossbreeding of creative prose and academic scholarship; as an artist, I am interested in the hybridized space of reality and imagination. I have a Joint Honours BA in English Literature and Fine Arts: Studio Specialization from the University of Waterloo (Waterloo, Ontario, Canada), and I am currently a Graduate student at McMaster University (Hamilton, Ontario, Canada) working on my MA in English and Cultural Studies involving a hybrid thesis project (a merging of academic scholarship, creative writing, and studio photography) on William Blake under the supervision of Canadian poet and scholar Dr. Jeffery Donaldson.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

From Polavision to Gaga Glasses

By Stefan Helmreich

Much has been written about Lady Gaga’s astonishing eyewear, from her razor-blade glasses in the video for “Bad Romance” to her smoking-cigarette sunglasses in the “Telephone” mini-movie. Gaga’s glasses signify a traditional celebrity opacity, but also torque and augment – and sometimes even impair – her vision. Hers are more than mirror-shades, more than sunglasses that enact or enable reflection, reception, protection, and/or deception. Gaga’s glasses are simultaneously tools of projection – and especially so when they display video images, as with the TV specs in “Pokerface.” Gaga’s glasses concretize vision as double, as simultaneously seeing and being seen (lots of stuff is going on, here, of course: insofar as Gaga pitches herself as a [hetero]sex object/subject, for example, her refractory eyewear might be imagined as ricocheting a straight male gaze back onto/into itself for a kind of auto-destruct [akin to what McCaffray and Vicks [2010] suggest in their analysis of Beyoncé and Lady Gaga’s “Video Phone”]). 

In light of all this doubling and troubling, how fitting, then, that Lady Gaga has become the Creative Director of the re-booted Polaroid Corporation (http://store.polaroid.com/Gaga/), a company founded on the double vision of polarization, which permits light waves to be split into components vibrating vertically and horizontally (a split that can be used to reduce light and glare by superimposing polarized discs at angles to one another). More intriguing, Gaga has now imagined a Polaroid product that combines the paradoxes of her own doubled and double vision: GL20 Camera Glasses.

Polaroid’s GL20 Glasses permit wearers to take pictures or video of their framed viewpoints and to upload those images to other devices (via Bluetooth and, perhaps, later, other wirelessnesses). These digital images can also be displayed on the glasses’ 1.5-inch LCD screens, flipping perception outwards, replaying interior experience as exterior display.

Lady Gaga in a GL20 Camera Glasses prototype, displaying Polaroid logo

The product not only puts the dialectic of seeing and being seen into a Möbius trip, but also plays with Polaroid’s fetish of instantaneity, collapsing perception and projection – and making explicit that Polaroid’s “instant” has always entailed a time lag (Polaroid’s cameras famously included a 60-second-or-so interval of wait-time, during which span people would impatiently agitate developing photos [Outkast commemorated this action in 2003, in their song “Hey Ya”: “Shake it like a Polaroid picture!”]).

More than one hundred years ago, philosopher Henri Bergson imagined an interval between reception and cognitive composition as the very essence of sensing, which he described as unfolding with a mechanism analogous to that of a movie camera:

Instead of attaching ourselves to the inner becoming of things, we place ourselves outside them in order to recompose their becoming artificially. We take snapshots, as it were, of the passing reality....We may therefore sum up...that the mechanism of our ordinary knowledge is of a cinematographical kind (1911: 332; see also Grosz 2004).

Gaga’s cinematographical glasses put Bergson’s thesis into hardware but, more, they turn his claim into a cartoon, or, better, materialize it as a machinic, hyperreal caricature. In so doing, the GL20 Camera Glasses make clear the fact that sensing has become inextricably entangled with the media techniques we use as analogies for it. In making such a technologically enabled phenomenology so lucid, the glasses may contain the possibility of tweak and, perhaps, critique.

Relevant disclosure: I grew up in a Polaroid family. My grandfather, who invented the dye-developing molecules in SX-70 film, treated we grandkids and kids and cousins as home lab animals for testing new Polaroid products (Helmreich 2007). In retrospect, I think what made this fun for us was that the products didn’t always actually work all that well. Pictures would warp, discolor, seem to melt; they were experimental not only technoscientifically, but also aesthetically. “Polavision,” for example, an “instant” movie camera system released in 1977 that came with its own table-top developing and projection box (it took movies 3 minutes to manifest), was undone by its dense and muddy frame resolution and by its chemical instability, which left home movies dissolving into pixilated psychedelic Stan Brackage-like celluloid wonders. The projector box’s sleek, Eames-brothers-styled casing notwithstanding, the thing was a mess. It may be no wonder that artists like Andy Warhol loved Polaroid products.

The Polavision movie camera system

Like Lady Gaga’s intentionally impossible high-heel shoes, which, at their best/worst, highlight the sometimes debilitating codes of some genres of fashion and femininity (see Durbin, Kinzel, and Vicks 2010), GL20 Glasses, like the Polavision system, promise to reveal – with an indeterminate mix of klutz and glamour – how much mediation, how many mistakes, go into seeing and being seen, and into doubling and troubling vision.


Bergson, Henri. 1911. Creative Evolution. Trans. Arthur Mitchell. 1907. New York: Henry Holt and Company.

Durbin, Kate, Lesley Kinzel, and Meghan Vicks. 2010. “Free Bitch Feminism: The Post-Gender of Lady Gaga,” Gaga Stigmata, Thursday, November 4.

Grosz, Elizabeth. 2004. The Nick of Time: Politics, Evolution, and the Untimely. Duke University Press.

Helmreich, Stefan. 2007. “The SX-70 Camera,” In Evocative Objects: Things We Think With. Sherry Turkle, ed. Pp. 208-215. Cambridge: MIT Press.

McCaffray, Eddie and Meghan Vicks. 2010. “Beyonce's ‘Video Phone’ (featuring Lady Gaga) – Observations and Discussion,” Gaga Stigmata, Sunday, September 12.

Author Bio:
Stefan Helmreich is a professor of anthropology at MIT, where he teaches courses on science, technology, and culture.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Anatomy of Fashion

by Meghan Vicks

When asked during the May 2010 SHOWstudio interview which of the outfits created with Nicola Formichetti was her favorite, Lady Gaga replied,

From that evening [the 2009 Video Music Awards], my favorite piece that we made, created, and designed all together was the performance outfit, the one that bled on its own. As a piece in itself, as an art piece, the garment would bleed on its own, even on a mannequin. It’s such a strong statement of fashion and art. The clothing is alive, it tells a story, it lives and breathes – the soul of the work. That piece was very special. That’s my most favorite we have created.

There is certainly a living, bloody vein that has threaded – or, pulsed – its way throughout Lady Gaga’s ever-evolving fashions. Many of her outfits literally refuse to stay still, from her living dress to her smoking cigarette glasses; and many embody the transience that is so indicative of a living (read: mortal) thing – recall her raw meat dress that evokes a sense of imminent decay, or outfits fashioned entirely from plaits of human hair. Her fashion rejects the notion that clothes are inert, lifeless material, mere coverings for the human body; rather, they become one with Gaga’s flesh. “She’s sleeping,” Gaga told an interviewer, referencing her now-iconic hair bow. Yes, fashion sleeps, bleeds, grows, moves, smokes, and lives in Gaga’s world.

And now, it dies too. And not as a metaphor, as we might refer to the death of last year’s fashion trends. With the release of “Anatomy of Change” (directed by fashion photographer Mariano Vivanco), which previewed the latest collection from Mugler’s menswear that was influenced by the creative vision of Nicola Formichetti, and set to music made and remixed expressly for Mugler by Lady Gaga, it seems that Gaga’s forthcoming album Born This Way and its accompanying performance will feature fashion that dies just as much as it lives. Aesthetics of the waking dead. Life, death, and rebirth – all at once. We’re still dealing with monsters. But now the clothes revel in, or reveal, their capacity for death.

The clothes and images featured in “Anatomy of Change” bring death to the forefront. Formichetti has said that his vision for the collection focused upon “darkness, Berlin, rebirth, and death” (source). Emblematic of this vision is the video’s centerpiece – model Rico “Zombie Boy” Genest, who has lately become famous for having tattooed his entire body to look like a skeleton. The film’s first shot of Rico presents him covered with a black, latexy skin, which he peals away to reveal his skull, his ribcage, his muscular structure – all that is normally covered always by the skin, and most times, by fashion.

The image of Rico reveals the human body literally laid bare, and this is the template upon which Mugler and Formicetti construct their fashions. Think Lear: “Is man no more than this?” But in Mugler/Formicetti’s vision, bare, “unaccommodated man” becomes one with fashion. After all, the skin is literally removed, but the fashion is not. As if to say: fashion has become more a part of human anatomy than human skin. Human skin is superfluous, but fashion is essential – become part of the essence of the human body. Anatomy of change. Formicetti has said of Rico, “he’s like a literal, visual interpretation of what is under the skin as well as a celebration of what’s covering it”; notice that there’s no focus on the skin itself. The barrier is overwhelmed by what it pretends to divide.

Other images in “Anatomy of Change” reiterate this fusion of human anatomy and fashion, wherein fashion takes the place of the skin (as Rico’s tattooed body suggests that he is skinless). Rico, revealed ribcage, and black leather jacket.

Rico’s skull masked by pearls.

Rico, bare-chested, wrapped in a black veil that is reminiscent of a shroud.

But underneath that shroud, Rico’s body – tattooed entirely with signifiers of death – is vibrantly, even defiantly alive. The body reborn from fashion, perhaps. Or maybe, the borders between fashion and the body are now so blurred that we can no longer tell where the body ends and fashion begins. As much as these fashions are about darkness and death, and as much as Rico’s body is marked as a corpse, they are also, as Formichetti’s vision dictates, highly animated. The veils are constantly in flow, in movement, over and above Rico’s body; the strings of pearls appear to asphyxiate Rico, only to jolt him to life. As the lines between body and fashion become indistinguishable, so do the borders between life and death. Which brings us back to the notion of the monster, who so very comfortably resides in these border zones where traditional dichotomies collapse. This liminal place where distinctions between body and fashion, life and death, break down, this zone where the monster resides, is the ultimate creative place – where one can be born this way out of death, out of fashion, out of life, out of the body.
This notion – that fashion is a living, breathing, and now dying part of the human body – has been proclaimed by Lady Gaga every day since the very beginning of her career. Isn’t this partly what she means when she tells us, again and again, that Lady Gaga is no different than Stefani? That the image is her truth? And now, fashion is skin.

It is also shit, but shit refigured in a positive way. Gaga’s music for the video, a remixed version of the track “Scheiße” from her forthcoming album Born This Way, begins with Gaga proclaiming “I don’t speak German but I can if you like.” The lyrics that follow have been fiercely debated on various Internet forums. Many who claim to be natively fluent in the German language say that Gaga isn’t singing in German at all, but in some nonsensical language that mimics German. Others have said that she sings, “Ich bin mir absolut klar, Ich trag den Namen Monster, Wir sind alle Familie,” which translates to “I am absolutely clear, I bear the name monster, We are all family.” For the former group, Gaga’s lyrically – and literally – singing “shit” – senseless, ambiguous gobbledy-goop; words that don’t mean anything, other than non-sense. And for the latter group, well, isn’t she singing about metaphorical “shit”? Because monsters are traditionally the freaks and outcasts of society – all this shit that official life withstands. She declares that we are a family of monsters; we are a bunch of shits – or the shits. The song and the video, then, become lyrical and visual love letters to shit: “Scheiße, Scheiße be mine! Scheiße be mine!”

Which brings me to some parallels and predictions:

Prior to the official release of “Bad Romance,” Lady Gaga debuted the song at Alexander McQueen’s runway show at the Paris Fashion Week in 2009. A month later, Gaga released the video for “Bad Romance,” which, not surprisingly, featured many pieces from McQueen’s latest collection. Heels that turned Gaga’s feet into hooves, that crystallized her body, shaped her into praying mantis – clothes that Gaga doesn’t wear, but that become Gaga. Implode the line between the body and the garment – this is Gaga’s fashion.

January 2011. Gaga previews “Scheiße,” a confirmed track from her new album, at the Mugler menswear show. Once again, Paris Fashion Week. You know what I think? Jo Calderone’s going to appear in the video for “Born This Way,” become flesh in those Mugler fashions that so dominantly featured death. He has only existed as an image till now; as Cheryl Helm has written, Jo Calderone is thus far “a construct, a static image on a glossy page; or like an empty suit still bagged up and hanging in Gaga’s wardrobe closet.” And as my friend Roland Betancourt has suggested in an article to be published in Gaga Stigmata’s upcoming book project, Jo Calderone was “born this way” – this referring to the process of taking images – in a photo shoot for Vogue Hommes Japan, styled by Nicola Formichetti.  

If my gut is right (or, maybe I should say, if my fashion is right), Jo Calderone will become animate – or, incarnate – in the most paradoxical of ways: in these Mugler fashions that take their creative inspiration from death. He will be the image that kills death by materializing in it. He will be immanently, essentially born this way out of fashion, photo shoots, and music videos.

And he will be just as much Lady Gaga, as Lady Gaga is Stefani Germanotta.

Friday, February 4, 2011

French New Wave Cinema & Lady Gaga

by Colin James Marshall

Director's statement: This video was made to compare the aesthetics of Lady Gaga's videography with those of  French New Wave Cinema. Further, the video opens itself up to a deeper analysis of the French New Wave and its influence on Lady Gaga. From Wikipedia, "the New Wave filmmakers were linked by their self-conscious rejection of classical cinematic form and their spirit of youthful iconoclasm." This self-consciousness and iconoclasm are key elements in both the French New Wave and Lady Gaga. Varda, Truffaut, Resnais, and Godard were all key auteurs in the French New Wave; interspersing their footage with Gaga's music videos yields an obvious shared aesthetic as well as a broader shared approach at their respective art. Both the aforementioned auteurs and Gaga's music/perpetual performance art are self-referential modes to reject convention. 

Director's Bio: Colin James "Collie J." Marshall was born in Wisconsin. He lives in Wisconsin. He will probably die in Wisconsin. At least it's not Wyoming.