\n<\/p>\n
We trundle down a hill so steep you have to fight against gravity, while Melton periodically lurches forwards from Neya\u2019s Goliath pull. \u201cI was thinking about our conversation the other day,\u201d he says, the one about Beef<\/em>. In a few days, he\u2019s planning to meet Lulu Wang, who\u2019s set to direct him and Lucy Liu in an adaptation of Katie Kitamura\u2019s Audition<\/em>. One of his takeaways from the novel \u2013 which is about the myriad ways we perform, not only in the acting sense but in the roles we play in life \u2013 is that \u201cperformance is identified by the viewer,\u201d he theorises. \u201cThe space in between my work as an actor and the audience is where the identification comes.\u201d Which is all to say that whatever Melton\u2019s work could represent for someone can\u2019t be dictated by him. Art is subjective, after all. Contact, not catharsis.<\/p>\n We snake through the neighbourhood, past houses cast in shadow in the low-hanging sun, until one catches his eye. \u201cLook at this,\u201d he says, observing the light\u2019s handiwork. Half of the wall is painted white in an attempt to cover the stone, which has eroded in long, spindly lines spreading in all directions, like the branches of a leafless tree in the thick of winter. \u201cYou frame that, you stick it in a museum.\u201d<\/p>\n When the road levels out, we make our way to a hole-in-the-wall burger joint called The Win-Dow. We agree to split a double cheeseburger and chips, and take a seat on some plastic stools that are scattered around. Neya eyes our dinner like it\u2019s prey.<\/p>\n \u201cWatch this,\u201d Melton says, turning to his dog. \u201cSit. Whisper.\u201d<\/p>\n An eager Neya lets out a loud, rough bark.<\/p>\n \u201cWhisper,\u201d he commands again, barely audible. She obediently turns down the volume and is rewarded with a chip.<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019ll wait, too,\u201d he continues, and gives the command for Neya to sit still. \u201cShe\u2019ll be there for 15 minutes. One time I forgot. I made her wait, and then I was watching something and I noticed there was a puddle of drool, and I was like, \u2018What the fuck?\u2019\u201d He offers her another chip apologetically.<\/p>\n Jacket, shirt and shorts by ERL. Belt, vintage.<\/p>\n <\/span><\/div>\n<\/figure>\n For a long time,<\/strong> home always changed,<\/strong> yet always appeared the same. Melton was born in Juneau, the capital of Alaska, to a Korean mother and an American father who served in the armed forces and was deployed in Iraq. His family, including his two younger sisters, hopped from military base to military base, across the country, overseas and back again: Tennessee (one year), Kentucky (one year), Georgia (one year), Korea (five years), Texas (two years), Germany (four years), Kansas (five years). \u201cAnd every summer, when we lived overseas, we went to Juneau, Alaska, until the age of 14,\u201d Melton recalls. \u201cSo that was my representation of America: rock beaches, bald eagles, bears. Pulling over on the street to fill up our empty plastic bottles with waterfall water.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n