Conversations with the Artist (1)

I’ve always felt as if I were in a cage. If I stick out an arm, I’m seen as wanting and taking. A leg: my violence is noted. When I mentioned the suffocation by my father, they made it autobiographical. The subtext of my work in iron has been ignored, lost in discussions of time, not space. What you’ll never understand about installations is that everyone else is always outside of them. I’m stuck inside. The move toward deliberate transience is the mark of a fool. If disappearing is inevitable, you must fight it. No one misses the prisoner. The bars are like a frame: you want in as much as I have always wanted out.