It looks like a dwarf lives here,” my father jokes as we stand looking at my apartment. It’s a typical studio – futon, television, stereo, and books on the floor. I don’t say anything. My father goes from room to room fixing things. He fixes …
I walk down the street – my eyes feel swollen, my lips are raw. I’m accosted by secretaries on their way to lunch, delivery men unloading boxes, babies in strollers pushed by nannies. Each person I pass stares though me. They see the strappy black …
The bathroom door closes slowly–the triangle of harsh light thins to gray as my lover shuts himself in. Only seconds before, Ralph whispered in my ear as I lay beside my son on the hotel bed watching a rerun of Miami Vice. I felt the …
I love making sculptures. The key is to look at all things, even the most common, and to really appreciate interesting visual stimuli.
