ZØVIVΛΛ: "Music became my emotional translator"

Redaction
10 hours ago
4 min read

ZØVIVΛΛ is a NYC-based transgender artist, DJ, and sonic architect who crafts unique and ever-evolving soundscapes. Born in the deep south and shaped by New York’s vibrant nightlife, she blends EDM, tech house, afro-infused rhythms, electro textures, and global club influences in her sets. Her multidisciplinary art fuses music, fashion, movement, and storytelling to create immersive experiences where sound becomes a universal and constantly transforming language. Personally, I find it fascinating how ZØVIVΛΛ turns every performance into a journey beyond music—a true contemporary ritual that invites exploration not only of sound but also of identity and the fluidity of being. Her work is a powerful and innovative celebration of life in all its nuances.

"Let’s Have a Kiki" carries deep cultural weight within the queer scene. What inspired you to reinterpret it, and how did you make this new version distinctly yours?

The phrase “Let’s Have a Kiki” is one of those iconic queer shapeshifters — it can mean anything from a gossip session to a soul download to a full-blown dance ritual. For me, it was an inside joke with one of my best friends, Zach Presley (shoutout BFA Gallery), who’d always say “Girl… we need a kiki.” It became our shorthand for reconnecting — no pressure, just presence.

So with Pride coming up, I wanted to honor that essence — but reimagine it. My version is darker, groovier, sexy but a little dangerous. Think: underground warehouse vibes. Disco meets tribal techno. I wanted something that feels queer, but not in the expected glitter-pop way. It’s still camp, but through a different lens — fierce, underground, and completely mine.

Your sound blends EDM, tech house, afro-infused rhythms, and global club textures. How has your trans identity and your journey from the Deep South to NYC shaped this sonic fusion?

Being trans teaches you how to read energy. How to shift, mold, and adapt — sometimes out of survival, sometimes for expression. And honestly, my moods change like BPMs. Some days, I want to rage — give me 140 BPM Charlotte de Witte-style techno and let me destroy the dancefloor. Other days, I want to cry-listen to Innerbloom by RÜFÜS DU SOL in gratitude and just be. Or lose myself in desert rhythms, Arabic melodies, Afro beats.

Growing up Greek in the Deep South gave me contrast — tradition and rebellion, slowness and soul. NYC gave me chaos, speed, spectacle. And hormones? Let's just say they bring range. But through all of it, music became my emotional translator. My sound is what it feels like to be alive, messy and euphoric and real. So yeah, probably the hormones.

STuDiØ ZØ feels like more than just a label — how does it fit into your broader multidisciplinary vision across art, fashion, sound, and movement?

STuDiØ ZØ isn’t just a brand — it’s an extension of my central nervous system. Is it a music studio? An art space? A yoga sanctuary? A fashion lab? The answer is yes — all of it. The whole point is integration. I’m not interested in separating the disciplines. I’m building a world where they collide, because that’s the only way I know how to show up.

Take my last big set — I dropped in on the Perda de Arpadoar in Rio, filmed on the rocks at sunset. That wasn’t just a DJ mix — it was sound design, drone footage, live styling, custom fashion, editing, color grading, The mix became then becomes a moodboard for a fashion drop. That drop became the soundtrack for a movement class. And now we’re cutting that into visual art. It’s a feedback loop of creation. Sometimes it’s paint, sometimes it’s stretch, sometimes it’s synths.

But it all comes from the same place: flow state. STuDiØ ZØ is my way of keeping that portal open — and building a future around i.

As an artist who moves between form and flow, is there something you’re currently trying to unlearn or deconstruct in your creative process or performance practice?

I’m learning to let go. To release the work.

I have so much that’s never been posted — tracks, videos, designs — because I used to hold everything back, waiting for it to be perfect. But perfection is a trap. The real work is in knowing when to stop. I have a painting hanging in SoHo with the words “The Edit is the Art.” That phrase came to me after a rave, 7am, covered in blue paint after dressing up as Avator for Halloween — and it stuck. Because the edit is the art. What we choose to show, what we cut, when we say done — that’s the magic.

Now I’m practicing the art of release. Share the track. Drop the clip. Ship the look. Be proud, post it, and move on. The moment you birth something into the world, it breathes. That’s the part I’m owning now — the confidence to say: this is finished. I made this. Next.