In 1968 I saw the performance Paradise Now by the Living Theater in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where the confrontation with, and the participation by the public destroyed any separation between life and art, this super-realism of the event was my great discovery as I was performing in theater and making things and plotting my departure from my family's home.

A gallery is a lot like a weird store. A special closet: like when you stand in your mother's closet with her beaded gowns and mink coats. Everything I make is in relation to the body or material culture; the work is never narrative or representational

I am making the world as I see it one thing at a time. You are entering my world; you fill in the blanks. I hover between understanding and not wanting to know. What is my tradition? Repetition or Innovation or.