I Was A Creative Force Behind One Of The Biggest Rock Bands Of The '90s. Then I Watched Them Erase Me From Their Story.

Casey Niccoli and Perry Farrell at home in Venice, California, in February 1991. Kevin Westenberg

I am an artist. Not the model, not the assistant, not the ex-girlfriend or the muse. I am an artist.

Recently, an art piece that I co-created over 30 years ago with my then-partner, musician Perry Farrell of Jane’s Addiction, was unearthed from a storage facility, after apparently being misplaced by the band’s management.

A photo taken by the band’s bass player, Eric Avery, was shared across social media and music platforms, my name conspicuously absent from the tags. The photo depicts our creation in a state of decay, yet it is framed with an eerie reverence, as though it were an ancient relic.

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The artwork was a mixed-media sculpture we made for the cover of Jane’s Addiction’s 1990 album, “Ritual de lo Habitual.” The life-sized papier-mâché piece depicts Perry, me, and Perry’s former partner Xiola Blue. We are three lovers entwined and mounted on plywood, with Xiola in the center. I’m on the right, wearing a black bra. The sculpture serves as a visual representation of the Jane’s Addiction song “Three Days,” and as a shrine to Xiola, who had passed away two years earlier.

Perry and I meticulously constructed the sculpture in our Venice Beach home, using chicken wire, newspaper, and a flour-water paste for the bodies, with twine for hair. Surrounding it were thrift-store finds, such as Mexican folk art pieces, candle lights, and various odd objects, including old photographs, fruit, and a radio dressed in fur. We included hidden messages. We created the work as a way to symbolize key themes in the music and help distinguish the band.

Seeing that old artwork stirred something deep within me. A tidal wave of memories came rushing in, as anger swept over my body.