You make history when you do business.

Do you know why language manifests itself the way it does in my work? It's because I understand short attention spans.

There's a moment of recognition. It's that white-light kind of stuff that just "works." I love that. And you know it when it happens, whether it's a movie, music, a building, a book.

Photography has saturated us as spectators from its inception amidst a mingling of laboratorial pursuits and magic acts to its current status as propagator of convention, cultural commodity, and global hobby.

Money talks. It makes art. It determines what food we eat, whether we are cured or die, and what shoes we wear.

It's really hard for me to use the term 'history' in the singular, because it suggests a reductivist view of how moments and events congeal and reflect the passage of time. I'd rather stick to the pluralness of 'histories' in order to suggest the simultaneity, the parallel forces at work, which produce lived experience.

You know, one of the only times I ever wrote about art was the obituary of Warhol that I did for the Village Voice.