Let’s get our blankets and hang out on the couch and hope pretend that it isn’t off-gassing us to death. I will be a raw nerve and what will you be? I want green lush hills and train subways in the living room. What do you want in our landscape?
I have been told about Lacan and his Real, the time before the mirror stage. I have been told my work is this Real fighting back into this place/art/space. (Sounds nice [Sounds pretentious]) Let's Fight!
My hands are busy, my feet are busy, my mouth is busy, with intestines gurgling.
The works are different but interconnect and have the ability to shift and change when need be. Sometimes there are heavy narratives with distinct names and places. Sometimes the work wants to work through itself and just be left to talk on its own. They all want to be looked at and sometimes touched.
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