I find the way people discover their own metaphors and attractiveness in my work intriguing. In-depth metaphors are often associated with schizophrenics and their artwork but my personal experience of the disorder doesn’t correlate to this assumption. “he pierces my chest with holes like I am a microwaveable ready-meal” – I have been told this is a beautiful sentence describing love, or passion, even sex. I wrote it after watching a hallucination stab me: the careless and nonchalant manner of the attacker, the speed of the assaulting stabs, the pops and slight resistance of my clothes and skin, and the lack of emotion accompanying the experience meant that this was exactly what it looked like to me. “meat is touched. grunts are made”. This is not a comment of sex, this was watching “norms” shake hands. I had felt for a long time that the meat (skin) encapsulating me was constrictive and repulsive; as such people’s actions with their bodies were simplified into slabs and groans in my perception.

My intrigue into watching or hearing a viewer’s reactions and thoughts lead me into my practice of endurance performances.”