What I do in one sentence: I have fun making fun of shit.
Why I didn’t get a proper job: I got fired from every job I ever had. Except when I quit first. No attention span.
An artwork I dream of and I would get accomplished if space, time and money were abundant: A full on postpunk circus with carousels, mirrors, strippers, loud bands, (ala Paul Mc Carthy’s SALOON) yet not so sick and pornographic.
Why I do what I do: I am hyper. I need things to do. Art and music are the most fun.
Artists, I have on my watch list (and why): Bunny Rogers solely.
I am afraid of snakes and alcohol.
I know that a piece is finished when it looks shitty or pretty enough.
How I want to be buried resp. words I want to be written on my tombstone: Not buried. Just put in a drawer. Whatever the state pays for is fine. “In search of Manny.” (First record from Luscious Jackson)
My studio is my playhouse.
What I do in one sentence: I have fun making fun of shit.
Why I didn’t get a proper job: I got fired from every job I ever had. Except when I quit first. No attention span.
An artwork I dream of and I would get accomplished if space, time and money were abundant: A full on postpunk circus with carousels, mirrors, strippers, loud bands, (ala Paul Mc Carthy’s SALOON) yet not so sick and pornographic.
Why I do what I do: I am hyper. I need things to do. Art and music are the most fun.
Artists, I have on my watch list (and why): Bunny Rogers solely.
I am afraid of snakes and alcohol.
I know that a piece is finished when it looks shitty or pretty enough.
How I want to be buried resp. words I want to be written on my tombstone: Not buried. Just put in a drawer. Whatever the state pays for is fine. “In search of Manny.” (First record from Luscious Jackson)