lies that tell the truth
She can't whistle.
She gets severe stage fright.
She needs loud music.
She needs a crowd moving... together.
She needs to be alone.
She likes the texture and nostalgia of teeth, paper planes, hands, ink, milk, wind, and pantone.
She likes to watch slugs having sex.
She likes the billowy car dealership balloon dude.
She is 10 years younger than her mom's death.
She believes in premonition and magic.
She is filled with sand and likes the sensation of deflating.
She always liked Lisa Frank and Diamanda Galas .
She loves beets because their color tickles her eyes.
She thinks everyone is better than her, except Mitchell- he's an asshole.
She dislikes beige food.
She met Prince at Buckeye Donuts... he ordered a custard donut with shhhuugar.
She met Steve Martin when he was wearing a bike-tard and Johnny Knoxville while she was crying in Soho.
She makes work about people and their self myths.
She knew Ben, Sioux, Bob, Aiesha, Donna, Hugo, Kelly, Carrie, and Mary… before their premature deaths.
She thinks some people are lighthouses for others.
She needs you to exist.
She thinks about being an accountant, but gets too depressed.
She thinks glaciers are inherently funny.
She still cannot whistle.
There are directions for participants that have been omitted, and I might say this is my actual Artist Statement. This project was initiated by an assignment in Deke Weaver's Performance Class at UIUC.