Why are you conducting this interview?
It is an assignment.

Why are you conducting this interview?
I guess there are things I want to know.

What don’t you know?
More that I feel comfortable admitting.

Why would you not feel comfortable answering questions that you yourself ask?
Because I am a worm; squirming and insecure.

How can someone like you propose to make art?
I feel strongly. I have urgent feelings. I was told I had a knack.

Where do you keep it?
In a translucent sleeve that I wear around my neck at all times.

What do you wish your art was capable of?
I wish it were dire; I wish that my art conveyed emotional urgency in a way that wasn’t entirely laughable and trite.

What would cause that?
My own self-seriousness, I suppose.

Can’t you change?
I’ve always been this way, I just keep burrowing deeper.

What do you expect to find?
You know how you twist your neck all different kinds of ways until you finally get the joints to release the built up tension with one really satisfying pop? I think I’m trying to find that.

Why should this matter to a viewer?
I depend on the viewer sharing this feeling of tension and unease within their own body. I don’t think that’s asking a whole lot: people I know go a long time between feelings of equilibrium within their bodies.

Is that kind of subjectivity really still relevant? 
Now you’re being an asshole. 

Do you think the question is invalid?
It’s completely valid, and so is subjectivity. I use objects as subjects. My subjects are not neglected. However, I try not to be too precious with my materials, either. I think this grew out of my upbringing; I was born into and aged within a partially constructed house with a low-income, blue collar family. Because of this, every object was a representation of the self; every item was indistinguishable from its role in our survival. Every item carried with it the trials that my family carried also.

Who’s the asshole now? Should I pity you for your poor childhood?
Sometimes when I am out on my commute or just passing through, I fantasize of landing a really well- deserved right-hook in some creep’s sneering mug.

Have you ever been in a fight?
I’ve never been able to defend myself when it really mattered.

Just a dream, then?
Just a dream.

How long are you going to keep bullshitting like this?
Who’s to say I’m not being completely genuine? I’m finished when I’m done.

Do you have many belongings?
I feel responsible for the preservation of many objects of sentiment.

Are they yours?
Some of them. Some of them I keep as superstition. Most of the things I can’t bear to get rid of, I have vivid and distinct memories of acquiring those objects, and I’m afraid that if I dispose of the object, I’ll lose the memory as well.

Are you really that forgetful?
Yes, it frightens me.

What else are you frightened of?
Loss. Anything could happen to me and I could just keep trudging on, but when things happen to those I love, I kind of lose my mind.

Can you say things more like Lucas Samaras?
I’m not a Greek-American man.

What are you?
A monster, probably. With inherited jew-ism. Back to the question about my belongings, though; I would throw it all away if I could. The photographs, for instance; I guess I don’t really need them. The posters and greeting cards; they only remain with me because of their emotional weight. I wish I could lose weight.

You sound more like a confused 22 year old girl than a monster.
What do you want from me?

Logical responses to the posed questions.
To what end?

To try and make sense of the place you are in. You are trying to make a body of work about something that you can’t even describe well.

What are you doing?