Éngel Chase: Louisiana Soul, L.A. Heart
Shaped by the warmth of Louisiana and sharpened by the restless energy of Los Angeles, this rising creative force exists in the space between memory and reinvention. Actor, musician, and visual storyteller, Éngel Chase channels a childhood built on imagination into a body of work that refuses to stay within one discipline. In this conversation with Bello, Éngel reflects on the emotional origins of his artistry, the tension between small-town tenderness and big-city ambition, and how imperfection, empathy, and personal history continue to guide his evolving creative voice.
Interview by Aleksandar Tomovic
You grew up in Louisiana and now live in Los Angeles. How do those two worlds live inside you when you create, whether it is acting, music, or fashion?
I’ve definitely become such an L.A. boy, but down in Louisiana we’re very hospitable and believe in kindness above all else. I try to keep that visible in all the art forms I’m passionate about. I want to be honest about who I am. I’m trailer trash, but nice, classy trailer trash turned city boy and I try to let that come through in my language or even in the instrumentation of my music. I love wearing cowboy attire, but fashion-wise I’m able to express myself more freely here in L.A. When I write, I subconsciously include settings and last names from Louisiana in my stories. I draw from the past in Louisiana, but I embrace the present in Los Angeles.
What was the first moment in your life when you realized creativity was not just something you liked, but something you needed?
When I was four years old. I was constantly drawing and singing songs for my grandma, my moms, and my siblings. Growing up, I never paid attention in school. I just drew the whole time in class. I always needed to be creating something because if I wasn’t, I wasn’t happy. I needed that escape to create tangible happiness for myself. I didn’t have the best childhood, but when I was drawing, acting out scenes with my toys, or performing for my siblings, nobody would touch me or reprimand me. It was a place of freedom. I needed it.
Do you feel like you are building one larger story across all disciplines, or do they each allow you to become a different version of yourself?
I think it’s both. I’m passionate about so many things that I can’t choose just one. I love that each discipline allows me to do something different. In music, I can be edgy, a darker, more chaotic version of myself. In acting, I can become someone else entirely, which feels calming. When I’m drawing, sewing, or styling, I’m serene and in a state of flow.
What does visual storytelling mean to you in today’s culture of image and performance?
Sometimes the answer can feel pessimistic because of the current state of the industry and the repetition of stories, so I’ll try to stay positive. Visual storytelling is an incredible art form. It allows us to practice empathy, to step into other people’s shoes and see whether the grass is truly greener or if we should appreciate what we have. Today’s culture often curates an image of perfection that even I fall prey to, but true performances are imperfect, and those are the ones I’m drawn to.
What has Los Angeles given you that you never expected, and what part of Louisiana do you still protect inside yourself?
Los Angeles has definitely given me some trauma I never expected (ha, ha), but it’s also given me hope and a kind of magic within myself that I didn’t know I had. Moving here was a culture shock and very lonely, but I’ve persevered and never given up. The part of Louisiana I’ll always protect is that small-town naïveté that has mostly faded since I moved here. I remember that boy fondly,he was full of excitement and had an overall “happy to be here” attitude.
When you sit down to write or draw with no plan, what tends to come out first: emotion, memory, or imagination and what does that say about where you are right now as an artist?
Because I’m an empath, it usually starts with emotion, what a character is feeling. From there, imagination leads the way. I like to write and draw exactly what’s in my head, and I’ll start over again and again until it translates the way I want. I think that says I’m a perfectionist as an artist, which isn’t a trait I’m proud of. Sometimes I try to just flow and take inspiration from other things, so if I catch myself stuck in that perfectionist loop, memory steps in. I’d like to be more patient with some of my passions, and I am with some more than others.