Jake Meow is a cult-adored experimental filmmaker and iconoclast known for his unpredictable vision, surrealist storytelling, and a rebellious streak that traces back to his controversial college days. A native of Ames, Iowa, Meow’s work is a swirling mixture of outsider art, Midwest grit, and unapologetic emotional vulnerability—often described by fans as “Lynchian if Lynch grew up on gravel roads and cheap coffee.” His work straddles the border between Midwestern surrealism and poetic chaos.
Meow’s creative journey began not with a camera, but with a typewriter. While studying journalism and media at Iowa State University, he became an outspoken columnist for The ISU Daily, writing feverish, abstract cultural critiques under the pseudonym "Meow." His essays, often peppered with fragmented prose and surreal metaphors, divided readers—some hailed them as visionary, others as incomprehensible.
Things came to a head during his junior year, when his now-infamous op-ed “The Soybean Apocalypse Will Not Be Televised” caused a firestorm of backlash. The editorial, a cryptic takedown of agricultural bureaucracy and late-stage capitalism framed as a postmodern fever dream, led to Meow’s firing from the paper. He left ISU shortly after, citing “creative incompatibility with reality.”
That firing, however, lit a creative fire. Meow turned to film, channeling his alienation and passion into a series of no-budget shorts shot on grainy 16mm and VHS. Titles like Barn Dust, Sleeping with the Grain, and Every Cornstalk Screams Eventually gained underground acclaim at micro-festivals and zine circuits across the Midwest. His films blurred the line between documentary and hallucination—favoring broken chronology, whispered voiceover, and agricultural symbolism.
Now considered a mentor to several up-and-coming filmmakers, including the rising auteur Redheaded Ben, Meow has embraced his role as the “weird uncle” of Midwestern cinema. Though he rarely gives interviews, his presence is felt through cryptic zines, voice memos leaked online, and a growing cult following who study his every camera shake like sacred scripture.
Jake Meow lives off-grid near Boone, Iowa, in a trailer he claims is "haunted by ideas." He continues to make films on his own terms—no grants, no studios, no apologies.
And yet, in the most absurd twist of all, Jake Meow now finds himself on the cusp of an offer from the Daily Wire to become a talent scout—a $90,000-a-year job that threatens everything he once stood against. Friends say it began as a joke, but the offer is real, and Meow, ever the enigma, is “thinking about it—ironically.” Whether this is performance art, survivalism, or a genuine sellout arc is unclear. Meow himself remains cryptic: “If the revolution pays $90k and comes with dental, who am I to ignore it?”