When you get a critique, people think you're criticizing them but it's really an intellectual conversation. You can't get emotionally attached.

I guess I cringe, because sometimes I don't even watch my live performances back. When I edit, it's this feeling of seeing my mistakes. It's always a mixture of loving characters, but being the artist that created it and not trying to go too deep in criticizing myself.

I was in that generation where I was torn if you should put it on the web because you're giving it away for free but you also want people to see your work.

I realized that was what was happening in my work already. I think that's where, as artists, we begin to master our craft: when we're able to step back and understand things.

I'm actually looking for a gallery, but the thing is some galleries just want to show the video work and some are just interested in the 2-D work. It has to be a gallery where I can do the 2-D collages, the video, and live performance, where it's not this weird conflict, where it can all move forward.

I was trying to release emotions, exercise emotions, and then I entered the art world. Even after grad school, some of [the earlier works] were still lingering in my head. I realized there were some pieces where I felt that I had to respond to the criticism.

I feel like my perception has changed a little because when I was posting stuff online it was an extension of my studio and then it started getting some of the attention. Now it's like, "Oh, this is actually a place where you can make money," but I'm not interested in competing in that space. It seems like too much to deal with.