I see art as a performance, enacted either in crowds of strangers or in the privacy of my studio. In Manhattan’s financial district, I wore a six foot long felt penis sewn together and stuffed with sofa upholstery. During this and subsequent performances, I was fascinated by the public’s reactions (laughter, avoidance, offense) and my own (pride, liberation, shame) as I parodied the figure of the downtown businessman using childish humor.
In my other works, I mix sawdust, paint, and glue into a malleable, mud-like paste that I apply to an unevenly surfaced core. The finished sculpture, evocative of fertile manure, is a product of my preconceived vision and the fake mud’s unpredictable drying process. By capping these mud structures with pockmarked concrete evocative of the Citigroup Center in Manhattan, I merge scatological references with sleek architectural engineering.