Art is gushing hot bile on the fields and harvesting the looks of nasty dwarfs.
Poetry is when words are robbed of their attributed truth.
My picture-poems are linguistic margins on visual atolls.
The white room is an interior to be made devoid of any specific sensualism emanated by objects. Ultimately it is classic white canvas expanded into three-dimensional space.
My body is the intention. My body is the event. My body is the result.
You become an artist to upset your family.