I would hate to think I'm promoting sadness as an aesthetic. But I grew up in not just a family but a town and a culture where sadness is something you're taught to feel shame about. You end up chronically desiring what can be a very sentimental idea of love and connection. A lot of my work has been about trying to make a space for sadness.

My dad's gay experiences really had a very positive influence on me and my straight relationships - how to better accept all the weirdness and ambiguity and ups and downs and paradoxes. I knew from the beginning I was writing about love.

Grief and memory go together. After someone dies, that's what you're left with. And the memories are so slippery yet so rich.

I pretty much believe that a film is a film and when an audience watches a film, they finish it.

Being a good Hans Haacke student, part of his influence on me is that there's no difference between a gallery show and a film - or even an ad and a T-shirt-in terms of cultural legitimacy. They're just different contexts in which to have some sort of communication.

To me, sadness and humor aren't disrelated and humor is the best tool I've had against the sadness in my life.

I am intrigued by inanimate objects. They're a piece of history, someone's statement and ideas of life.