About This Artwork: I moved and moved, place to place. Thirteen times before 9. Each place filled with good and bad. Memories of who I was and what I am, and hopefully won’t always be. Every house, apartment, guest room and couch: the same as the next. All of them contained the inside of this head. This head where I dream, beat myself up, laugh and cry, and otherwise solidify the true and false.

Born of monsters on Jasmine St. in Culver City, I listened to perfume bottles clank-clanking together in the earthquake of 71 on the dresser near beautifully framed photographs of my brother. I used to stare at those pictures until his lips would begin to move - like he was taunting me, just as he did in real life - from place to place, just before the Bicentennial.