ACCELERATOR Artist Profile: Emma Irene Olson

By Jazz Zhu

ACCELERATOR is Los Angeles Performance Practice’s flagship artist development program—a nine-month intensive that empowers multidisciplinary artists to build sustainable, visionary, and self-determined creative careers. A thoughtfully-selected cohort of twelve Los Angeles-based artists meets bimonthly to engage in professional development workshops, in-depth mentorship, and peer accountability to design a resilient creative life. By the end of the program, participants will have artist statements that celebrate their whole selves, a personalized strategy for resourcing their practice, and a sustainable approach to producing the work they’re passionate about.

ACCELERATOR cohort member Emma Irene Olson (she/they) is an LA-based queer multidisciplinary performance artist. We sat down with Emma Irene to talk about how she found her way back to the performing arts, the stories behind their recent projects, and what it takes to reclaim joy, let go of fear, and make work that matters on one’s own terms.

Astro Cabaret Leo Sun, photo by Lex Ryan

First of all, can you introduce yourself?

My name is Emma Irene Olson. I’m a queer performance artist, musician, writer, actor, and clown, all of the above. I like to make work that’s funny and personal, but also applies to the collective. A lot of it is inspired by astrology, my time in corporate America, and the current moment we’re living in. 

What is your origin story?

I was a very dramatic child. I would put on solo performances of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in my basement just because I loved performing and singing. I did choir and school plays as soon as I could. Although I grew up in a small town with limited opportunities, there was one tiny community theatre that became really important to me.

I went to college intending to study theatre, but I freaked out sophomore year, convinced I wasn’t good enough. So I shifted hard into a degree that would let me do business. After graduating during the recession, I entered corporate America and stayed there for six years. I left to open my own boutique, got burnt out, went back to corporate for stability, and eventually moved to LA for work. Then COVID hit, and I had this huge moment of questioning, what am I doing with my life? I had always loved performing, but work took up all my time and energy.

What was the turning point for you?

During lockdown, I started connecting with other artists through anti-racist organizing on Zoom. Someone recommended gina young’s Feminist Acting Class, which I took while on sabbatical after another burnout. It was my first acting class since college, and it set me on a path I did not think was possible. I realized I could do this just because I wanted to, not because it had to define me. 

I kept taking classes and workshops that genuinely interested me. I found an online quick-creation festival, wrote a play, and performed it on Zoom. That led to other invitations to share my writing and perform. Eventually, I wrote a one-woman show for the Hollywood Fringe Festival and then a solo musical.

I didn’t plan to become an artist again, or even call myself one, but it snowballed because I was enjoying it so much. Now my work includes a lot of clowning, comedy, devising, and writing. It’s been really amazing and not what I expected at all.

Astro Cabaret Sagittarius Uranus, photo by Ell C. Dellorso

How did you start clowning, and how has it influenced your work?

I took a screen acting comedy workshop in LA, and the instructor, who also did clown, encouraged me to try it. As we were leaving, she shook my hand and said, “We will see each other again.” That felt special and set me on this path. I started with workshops and saw a lot of shows. Clown feels like a philosophy of performance. It is about connection with the audience. If they bristle at something, how do I bring it back to something they love? That is the challenge.

Clown has taken a lot of pressure off my own work, and it made me less afraid of how I’ll be received and more willing to take risks without needing things to feel polished. That freedom has let me be more unapologetically myself. Much of my writing is rooted in self-love, not as narcissism, but as a practice of recognizing that what we judge in others often reflects what we struggle to accept in ourselves. If my work can help me, or others, love every part of ourselves, I believe it can lead to more connection, empathy, and forgiveness. 

We live in a moment of purity culture and perfectionism, and I think that comes from expecting the impossible of ourselves. Perfectionism is a tenet of white supremacy. Breaking it down in ourselves is part of breaking it down in the broader world.

How does it feel to be back in the arts? Has that fear you felt in college dissipated with time?

Definitely. Coming back to performing years later has been beautiful because I put much less pressure on myself now. These days, passion and drive motivate me more than any external expectations. I don’t have a rigid roadmap where missing a step means I’m off track. Instead, I follow where I feel pulled and just trust the universe. 

What does “trusting the universe” mean to you?

It’s many things. Astrology inspires much of my work, and I love it as a storytelling tool. For example, in my show Astro Cabaret, I created 12 characters inspired by my birth chart. Each represents a part of myself, and the goal is to help audiences recognize the multitudes within themselves. 

I also recently learned that I’m epileptic. I’ve learned that some experiences I was told were panic attacks were actually focal onset seizures, during which I experience this brief, intense feeling of deja vu, and it’s pretty dreadful. Over time, I noticed they happened more often when I was in unhealthy situations. I’ve started to see these moments as guideposts or signals to redirect my life. In that sense, signs from the universe are really signs from myself, although I’d prefer if they were a little easier than a seizure.

Astro Cabaret Aquarius Moon Mycelium, photo by Ell C. Dellorso

Can you talk about your latest work in progress, Space Company?

The piece is still in its early stages. I began developing it unexpectedly in an eight-week devising workshop at the Elysian called “Playing Yourself,” taught by Jacquelyn Landgraf. I went in planning to make a show about mycelium and mycelial thinking, the idea that we are all connected, but as we worked, stories from my corporate life poured out. 

The project has become a journey through a fictional workplace called Space Company. They insist they are not a company but a family, driven by the goal of being the best in the universe through innovation, growth, and profitability, learning as much as possible at any cost. It’s a satirical look at American corporate culture and late-stage capitalism, exploring ego, ambition, and the impulse to succeed in systems that are ultimately unsatisfying.

At the center of the piece is a catastrophic event that forces a reimagining. If everything had to start over, what would we build? That question is both impossible and hopeful. The form begins as immersive comedy and then shifts into something less literal, possibly more musical. Space Company is being developed as a work in progress, shaped in real time with audiences and allowed to evolve over the year.

What drew you to the ACCELERATOR program, and how has it been going for you?

I came to ACCELERATOR because I wanted structure and tools to support my practice. Coming in, I had no idea how to resource my work beyond paying for it myself, and that’s not sustainable.

ACCELERATOR has given me structure, accountability, and access to opportunities I didn’t know how to look for. Having a container for my art practice connected to another entity, following a rubric or syllabus, is really helpful. 

Being in a community with other artists is also amazing. It’s inspiring to hear what everyone else is working on and how they resource their work. 

Who are the artists or mentors that have most influenced your work? 

gina young was an early and lasting influence. I’m inspired by their artistic journey and the way they build and sustain community. Natasha Mercado, who directed Astro Cabaret, also shaped my work through her Soft Clown approach, which centers vulnerability, play, and full commitment.

Maria Bamford is a major inspiration for how she weaves mental health into comedy. As teachers, Deanna Fleischer and Jacquelyn Landgraf expanded how I think about gender, clown, and devising, while Natalie Palamides continues to inspire me with her fearlessness and total embodiment on stage.

Last question: if you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Valentine’s Day Sweethearts. If they didn’t rot my teeth and make me sick, I’d eat them forever.