“Go with your gut…every single time.” an interview with EJ Hill

Back in October, I had the pleasure of meeting and seeing the work of LA based artist EJ Hill.  We both were representing Defibrillator Gallery at the MDW Art Fair in Chicago.  In the midst of the bustle of the art fair, EJ stood as still as possible for 3 hours.  I instantly fell in love with his piece and his demeanor.  The Present Tense is thrilled to share a recent interview we did with him!

"Drawn" 2011- EJ licked every wall of the exhibition space. After a few minutes, his tongue was rubbed raw and left a trail of blood. photo by Matt Austin

TPT: Who are you?
EJ: Ah! Such a big first question! I’m still working on that one. I haven’t quite resolved that one yet…



TPT:  How did you find live art?  How did live art find you?
EJ: I guess I’ve always sort of been interested in extraordinary experiences or circumstances but I didn’t really come to understand those as art until I found myself hanging out with other weirdos at Columbia College in Chicago. I thought I was going to learn to draw and paint when I got to art school, which, you know, was definitely there, but once I figured out that other things could be art, that experiences could be art, I hit the ground running in a different direction.



TPT: Tell me about one experience that has influenced, inspired or affected your work.
EJ: When I was about 6 or 7 years old, my only neighborhood friend was the kid who lived next door. He was about a year or two older than me and his family pretty much gave him free reign. My family was the exact opposite; I was so coddled and sheltered growing up that I wasn’t even allowed to go past our driveway onto the sidewalk alone. So I never really got to venture out and play with the other kids. Because of that, my friend knew a whole lot more about things than I did but he was always getting into trouble for one thing or another. So one day we were playing in my backyard and he told me that if I put my mouth on his penis that it would feel good. So not knowing what any of this was about but curious to try it, he pulled out his penis, put it in front of my face and I did what I always did when things entered my mouth… I bit down. Hard.

"Suck and Blow" 2009 blow dryer, vacuum with hose attachment, performance duration: 7 minutes, photo by Tannar Veatch

TPT:  In October 2011,  you made a piece where you stood still for 3 hours for the MDW Art Fair in Chicago. Can you talk about the intention behind this action?
EJ: I think I was just tired of performing at that point. I felt that when people showed up to see one of my performances, they expected me to make some intense, hyper-aggressive, balls-to-the-wall piece where I sweat and cry and freak out. And I don’t ever want my work to become predictable. Ever. So I was thinking about ways to perform, without actually performing. So I thought, “What if I just stood still and did nothing for as long as I could?”


TPT:  Can you describe your process for realizing this work?
EJ: Yeah, so after the “What if…” thought, I decided to try it. The fist time I tried it, the plan was stand still for 24 hours and see what happens. I was working late in the studio one night and I asked my friend Dylan Mira to take one photo of me on the hour every hour. So I set up the tripod and camera and just stood about 20 feet away from it. That night, I only made it to 4 hours, but those 4 hours were so crazy! By the end of it, snot was running from my nose, my shoulders sagged by about a full inch, my feet were swollen, and I couldn’t really see because my eyes had been tearing up for the last hour or so.


TPT:  What were some of your expectations/ hopes (if any) of your audience?
EJ: I had hoped that whatever meditative, out of body, mindfuck that I was experiencing could somehow be transmitted from my body to anyone else who encountered me. I wondered if whatever energy that was flowing through me while I was in that altered state could be felt by others.


TPT:  Were there any moments that surprised you?
EJ: I think it was somewhere around the last hour where another piece in one of the other booths at MDW sent me flying somewhere else! It was a sound piece that could be heard throughout the entire floor. It was a continuous low drone that layered and got louder and more complex with time. I noticed that the whole time I was there, no one really engaged with me for longer than a few seconds but when the sound piece started to affect me in this hypnotizing way, people started to gather around and just watch. I’m not sure what I looked like but I think it was at that moment that I tapped into whatever I tapped into that first night in the studio. People stood around, and just watched. Just watched me stand.


TPT:  Why did you choose to create this work over the duration of 3 hours?
EJ: I planned to go for longer, but shortly after the low drone of the other piece ended, I just didn’t want to continue. After the sound stopped, I felt like I was doing that thing where I was performing. I was only continuing for the sake of the audience and it began to feel really insincere.


TPT:  How did the piece evolve for you over that time?
EJ: It was painful. Ironically, standing still takes a lot of hard work, tons of stamina. The soles of my feet were killing me, my back and shoulders were hurting from the weight of my arms. Physically, it wasn’t very pleasant but psychologically, it was almost euphoric.


TPT:  How was performing in Chicago different from making work in other places?
EJ:Well, I went to school in Chicago so I had a few years of developing a practice or a working method. I was comfortable. And I think toward the end, other people were comfortable with what I was doing and expected me to deliver a certain type of work. So any time I got the opportunity to travel and make work somewhere else, it was exciting. I could go and make my work with an entirely new audience who didn’t go into it with any preconceived notions. Chicago also has this very impressive “get off your ass and make it happen” kind of attitude. If it’s not being done, and people want to see it happen, someone will make it happen. People are grinding hard and not so much because of market pressures as is the case in some other cities, but because they really believe in what they do. It’s phenomenal. It’s beautiful. It’s so fucking REAL.


TPT:  How did the context of an art fair inform your piece?
EJ: I knew it was going to be busy. There was going to be a lot of people, a lot of action, a ton of art. I wanted to contrast the usually overwhelming nature of art fairs.


TPT:  Do you have an ideal context for your work to be experienced in?
EJ: Yes. That moment when you’re least expecting it.

(photo: Frazer Harrison/Getty Images North America)

TPT:  You were one of the performers who participated in Marina Abramovic’s piece for The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles’ annual Gala. How did this situation challenge your perception of stillness?
EJ: That one was weird because there were so many other things going on at the time (the Debbie Harry performance, the tiff between Yvonne Rainer and Marina Abramovi?) so it was really difficult to even think about stillness with so many distractions on and off court. And we were all supposed to rotate on lazy Susans beneath the tables so we were still, but only kind of.


TPT:  How has this experience informed your creative process?
EJ: The MOCA performance itself, the action, sort of left as quickly as it arrived. But I still find myself asking questions regarding power dynamics in the art world. I haven’t unlocked any secrets or answered any questions definitively, but I’m thinking a lot more about work ethic, compensation, celebrity/art stardom, creative impetus, the role of the wealthy in the production/consumption of art…


TPT:  What are you currently studying?
EJ: Love.


TPT:  Who/What is inspiring/ influencing your work presently?
EJ: Mark Aguhar, Frank Ocean, Anderson Cooper.


TPT:  Any words of wisdom?
EJ: Go with your gut. Every single time.

Present Tense Interview: Wilder Huckleberry

There aren’t many 16 year olds out there that could school the Present Tense on performance art. Wilder Huckleberry is one of the few exemptions. Having grown up with two parents that make performance and regularly attend events, he’s probably seen more performance in his life than most working performance artists have. Below, we pick his brain in an interview on his take of performance if Boston.

Present Tense: What is the first performance you remember seeing?

Wilder Huckleberry: first performance… the one that stands out is one that Mari did in one of the earlier Mobius spaces. Definitely wasn’t the first i saw, but the one that was pretty early on. She was doing some crazy things under a red light with tall tree  pillars and meat and gods and a sliced up napkin toga thing.

PT: Is performance art cool?

WH: Yes, performance is cool, but its really more that the artists themselves are cool. Audience and artist together make the performance, that’s how I’m thinking about it right now.

PT: Can you name a few artists or pieces that you really liked?

WH: I’ve really liked every piece of art that I have ever seen from Julie Andre Tremblay and Jamie McMurray, to name two.

Julie Andree T

My parents’ stuff I always have a different mood about, probably because they’re my parents, and you always have changing feelings about your parents. The collaborations between my father and Vela Phelan are almost always badass.

Jeff Huckleberry and Vela Phelan

PT: Have you ever made your own performance?

WH: I have taken part in many performances, but never made my own.

PT: Are there any objects that you can’t look at with thinking of a performance you’ve seen?

WH: Yes, there are so many. My room contains a few. There are a bunch in our basement. I can’t even look at a plywood sheet without thinking of my dad.


PT: Would you say that having parents that are artists has impacted you in any way?

WH: Well if my parents hadn’t been artists, well, I don’t even know what that would be like.

Interview with Daniel S. DeLuca

In early March, Art Fair season hit New York City, causing a frenzy of artists and galleries getting their work ready for prospective buyers.  Grace Exhibition Space, a gallery devoted to showing performance art in New York decided to wrangle their resources and participate at Fountain Art Fair.  In Grace’s “Go Big or Go Home” fashion, all bases were covered.  They teamed up with Boston’s Mobius Artist Group to organize performances to happen throughout the day and then Grace Space invited other performance artists to make performances in the evening.  I had the pleasure of participating and witnessing performance art taking over a space traditionally reserved for product-based artwork.  This event was appropriately named, “Infiltrate”.

A piece that stood out throughout the 4 days of “Infiltrate,” was Daniel S. DeLuca’s “demur”.  DeLuca, a Boston-area and Mobius artist, installed himself in front of the space where galleries had created temporary spaces on Pier 66 in Manhattan.  DeLuca seemed unassuming, blending into a pile of scrap metal and a forgotten caboose.  He held a sledgehammer in one hand, standing in front of a steel plate he foraged from the immediate environment.  A second sledgehammer was attached to the plate.  A few feet away, he installed a “Contract for Sale” for this performance piece.  For 8 hours for 3 consecutive days, DeLuca repeatedly hit the sledgehammers together, building a steadfast and cacophonous addition to the sonic landscape.

The Present Tense recently interviewed DeLuca about this piece, his process and practice.  Enjoy!

photo by Sandrine Schaefer

TPT:  Who are you?

DD:  Great question.

TPT:  How did you find performance art?  How did performance art find you?

DD:  It kicked me in the face one day during a class I was taking with Denise Marika at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design. Denise was in the middle of making the distinction between performance art and theater and she suddenly  stood up from her chair, raised it over her shoulder, then forcefully threw it into the floor.  It was at that moment that the concept of performance art became clear to me. Her action had real force and impact. She wasn’t pretending.  Looking back it was a powerful moment.  The whole platform of performance art practice really opened up in my mind.  I saw the potential of the medium and it felt honest to how I wanted to make work.  That was six years ago.

TPT:  Do you have an ideal context for your work to be experienced in?

DD:  I make a real effort to be sensitive to the context my work is shown in. Sometimes I will think of an action or material I want to work with and a suitable context is sought in relation to those elements. Other times I’m invited to a particular context or one is  discovered and the work becomes more of a response to or collaboration with the site.  A starting point seems necessary. It is hard to work outside of time and space.

TPT:  How did you choose the space in which you performed in?  Why did you choose to stay in one location?

DD:  I went through the authorized locations for performances and selected a spot that was open enough for me to swing a sledge hammer without worrying about impeding foot traffic.  Honestly, there weren’t many options.  Staying in the same place established a constancy and focus on the action. It was practical too.

photo by Sandrine Schaefer

TPT:  How did the context of being on a barge inform your experience?

DD:  It led me to consider my balance on a gently swaying surface.  While I was performing I was able to work with the sway.  When I wasn’t performing it made me feel clumsy and a little uneasy.

TPT:  How did the context of an art fair inform your performance?

DD:  It led me to consider the commercial market for art and in particular, performance art.

PTP:  You created a Contract of Sale for this piece.  What was the role of this Contract?

DD:  The contract was created to position the work more closely to the context of the art fair. I couldn’t ignore the fact that people would be selling artwork, not just at Fountain, but throughout New York as well.  I was thinking about the position of performance art among all of those commercial art fairs. I wonder how many performance art pieces sold?  It was an honest attempt to draft a contract that would act as a catalyst for the sale of the performance and was an interesting conceptual platform to work with.  I’m still working through ideas that came up while working on this aspect of the piece.  I think that its important to note that most people didn’t look at the contract. My action with the sledgehammers became the whole piece for the majority of the audience.

TPT:  Is there a relationship between the action of hitting sledgehammers together and this document?

DD:  Yes, the contract was an example of the metaphor of the action. The piece became self-referential because of it.

TPT:  Why Sledgehammers?

DD:  I liked the weight and force associated with them.  It was a good match for me physically. I wanted to work with an action that  would be challenging both in terms of strength and balance. I also wanted to work with a hard material. Steel is pretty hard. Their familiarity as a working class tool was important as well.

TPT:  Are these objects (Sledgehammers, Steel, and Contract of Sale) familiar to your work?  Are they new to your work?  Do you predict that you will work with them again?

DD:  I have worked with hammers once before. But the steel and the contract were new elements for me.  I was inspired by the weight of the steel and the complexity of the language in the contract.  I have already begun to revisit the role of the contract in my work.

TPT:  What is your relationship to your performance objects in the broader scope of your work?

DD:  You could use the same action to do a thousand different pieces by changing the material. You could also use the same material for a thousand different pieces by changing your action.  Context is another variable. I typically select objects that I feel are most appropriate to the concept and context I’m working with.  However, there have been some reoccurring interests with certain materials and I could see myself beginning to work with more closely over a period of time.  I’m still at a point where I’m exploring and discovering my relationship to the materials in my work. The way I work with gravity is becoming more clear to me. Its one of the major threads in my performance work.  Natural light and sound play a significant role too.

TPT:  What were some of your expectations/ hopes (if any) of your audience?

DD:  I hoped someone would buy my performance.

TPT:  Were there any moments that surprised you?

DD:  I was surprised by how loud the sound was.  The first day I didn’t wear ear protection and my ears rang for a few days afterwords.  I could have really damaged my ears if I hadn’t worn protection over the last two days.  It was startling for many people who walked by not expecting such a loud sound.  Some of the artists close by were annoyed by it. Others who were farther away said that it was kind of comforting to have the consistency of the sound coming from the distance.  I swung the hammer when I was ready to.  This was around every 30-60 seconds.

TPT:  Why did you choose to create this work over the duration of 3 days?

DD:  I wanted to have enough time to really experience the physicality of it and to see   the impact in the material. I wanted to flatten the sledgehammer, disintegrate it if I could. One swing at a time.  I have even given consideration to continuing the action for many years until the hammer really did flatten or the piece sold.  If the piece was sold and re-performed then I would’t have to do the work myself! I also  wanted to reach a wider audience and to be a constant element in the environment.

TPT:  How did the piece evolve for you over that time?

DD:  I developed a whole breathing cycle, physical acuity, and mental focus that I had not fully anticipated. I became more efficient with my swing pattern the more time I spent with it.  The concentration became clear to those watching in the subtle moments between the fast part of the swing. I began watching the shadows of people in my periphery. I tried to wait until them had passed by before I made a swing.  The sound was so loud I didn’t want to catch people completely off guard.  I also became more sensitive to the swaying of the boat.  I tried to work with the sway for each swing.  My legs were extremely sore after the first day and the second day was colder than the first.  I had different conditions to work with each day but I was able to get into and sustain the focus on the action more quickly after the first day.

photo by Sandrine Schaefer

photo by Sandrine Schaefer

TPT:  What is your definition of “durational”?

DD:  Honestly, I look at it like a relative grayscale.  I don’t have a notion of “durational” that I am trying to champion. Colloquially, I would use it to describe work that is several hours, days, or years long.

TPT:  What is the role of repetition in this work?

DD:  The repetition brought subtleties  to the surface and allowed for a visible impact in the material.  At first glance the action is kind of Sisyphean and not very entertaining.  However, unlike Sisyphus, there was gradual impact and change in the material over time. The hammer heads impacted each other and formed an imprint in the steel plate beneath them.  Despite the perceived futility of the act there was actual change taking place. Thinking more about the imprint broadened my understanding of the metaphor I was working with. Also, for me, it was the pace and duration of the repetition which alluded to a feeling of slow, constant, time.

TPT:  Can you describe your process for realizing this work?

DD:  This piece evolved over a month and a half before it was shown at the Fountain Ar Fair.  Initially, I was going to focus solely on concepts around the commodification of performance art.   However, I was having a lot of physical anxiety at the time so I decided to incorporate a physically challenging action. The action of swinging a sledgehammer is what I came up with.  This was also when the series of revolutions were taking place in the Arab World and senators were fleeing Wisconsin.  There seemed to be a lot of social and political unrest going on nationally and internationally.  This piece was an attempt at grappling with some of the skepticism I had around those issues. I questioned the way we use the same tools and systems to achieve our own ideals as the people and systems we ideologically oppose. Are the political and social systems at fault? Are the people at fault? At fault for what? Instead of placing blame and in light of offering an alternative I  created a metaphor through “demur.” I felt more like an observer and time keeper than a problem solver. What I discovered was the importance of the imprint left behind on the steel plate. The impact of the collision of steel on steel was one thing. The shape it left behind was something reflective of the original but completely different.

photo by Bob Raymond

photo by Bob Raymond

TPT:  Define “Demur”?

DD:  “The action or process of objecting to or hesitating over something… raising doubts.” (My computer’s dictionary)

TPT:  How was performing in NYC different from making work in Boston?

DD:  It was farther away from home.

TPT:  What is your interpretation of the “Boston Flavor”?

DD:  I don’t think Im qualified to answer that question.

TPT:  What is inspiring you at the moment?

DD:  Wonder and Reason.

TPT:  What are you studying?

DD:  Ideas, animals, space, and matter.

TPT:  Who/What is influencing your work presently?

DD:  Necessity.

TPT:  In addition to creating performance art, you are active in organizing art events, art research projects, etc.  How does this piece fit into the rest of your work?

DD:  I go through periods when I am more extroverted and have the drive to work collaboratively with larger numbers of artists and organizations.  I have other periods where I am more introverted and make work individually.  I am in an introverted period at the moment and am focusing on artworks like “demur.”

TPT:  What’s Next?

DD:  Three doors and a guillotine that cuts watermelons in half.  I am  also in the beginning stages of another artistic research project that investigates Mexico and the celebrations for the end of the Mayan calendar.  It would be similar to People in Space.

TPT:  Any words of wisdom?  Words to chew on?

DD:  Chew on words.

Giving Thanks for Paul Waddell

Paul Waddell is an artist, a friend, and a force that The Present Tense has had the pleasure of both showing and curating with. Beginning tomorrow, Paul will spend 72 hours at MEME Gallery giving thanks to Boston, Slash, SMFA, snow, and “everything that makes America great”.  He will be attempting to befriend a domesticated Turkey while watching football, making corn, and engaging in other holiday-related absurd activities. In this parody of Joseph Bueys’ famous performance, “I like America and America likes me,” where he lived in a gallery with a wild coyote, Paul will challenge gallery-goers to interact with him.

In preparation for this piece, appropriately titled, “I like Massachusetts and Massachusetts Massachusetts Massachusetts me” The Present Tense is posting an interview that Philip conducted during Paul’s last visit to Boston during the Spring. Enjoy!

Paul Interview from The Present Tense on Vimeo.

Interview with Jeff Huckleberry

This past November, MEME featured an exhibition of work by Boston performance artist Jeff Huckleberry. We’ve known Jeff for a few years now, seen his work many times in many different places, but never in the white cube exhibition format. You can see more photos of the show in the MEME Vault.

Sandrine: Who are you?
Jeff Huckleberry: I am a 40 year old white male living in Boston. I have spent 8 years total in art school, 23 years as a professional bicycle mechanic, 14 years as a father, (so far…If I can just keep him out of that car full of drunk high school friends doing 100mph on Rt. 2) and 15 years as a husband. I have had many cool but hurtin’ cars in my life, the most current is a slowly dying white VW Jetta from 1996. My father in-law collects Buick Roadmasters.

S: Where are you from?
JH: Originally, Loveland Colorado (0-17) though now, Boston. (17-40)

Phil:  How long have you been making performance?
JH: Fall of ’89…wow, 20 years.?

P:  I’ve noticed that in most of your performances/installations you have a similar set of materials that you work with. What brought you to these materials and what compels you to continue working with them?
JH: There are a few materials that really stimulate the brain/body/art/ connection for me: wood (especially saw dust), loud/low/abstract sound, some aggressive liquid that hurts when you pour it on your self, paint and dangerous tools. Those materials have become, over the years, things that I would be very sorry to be without.

I started working with lumber when I was working on my thesis show in 2003. I was exploring some of the “characters” that were/are directly involved with my development as a person, namely my Dad, his father (a master carpenter), and my Scout Master. Sometimes when I see my shadow on the street I get startled and think that my Dad is standing next to me. That shadow is often represented by pieces of lumber, or by the activity of cutting boards, or by the smell of saw dust, or most directly, by the sweat dripping off my nose while bent over some impossible task. The lumber, if it represents anything other than itself, is the hard work of making work. The lumber is also very much a kind of minimalist art project that could be viewed as separate from its possible meanings and interpretations (impossible?). Lumber, in all shapes and sizes has the potential for any number of possible physical relationships. Wood is one of those materials that will accept me no matter how ineptly or masterfully I interact with it. So, I keep using it.

I also often use paint and other authentic “work” and “art” materials in performances. One of my earliest performances in school involved painting myself different colors with acrylic paint, so I have been doing that for a long time. Using paint in performance (usually by painting my body or pouring it over myself) has a twofold utility; on the one hand, it visually joins (big P) Painting with (little p) performance by providing an entry point into a conversation about the location of art making, surface and object. It also has the added and not insignificant effect of feeling really great: this “feeling”, or physical sensation is a primary ingredient in structuring my physical and mental space to accommodate the process of performance. (I also think it looks really cool!)

P: In the last few pieces I’ve seen you perform, black and white paint?has been incorporated in a variety of ways. It seemed to reference some form of duality that you take on in the work, is that even remotely correct?
JH: Yes. And no. It is kind of an attempt to collaborate with myself (splitting myself into two people and then uniting again in the shared task of the performance) and also to have a conversation about grey. With respect to the activity of performance, it visually describes the “liminal” space of performing, though, to be fair, I don’t think it is doing a very good job of that so I am trying to figure something else out. The black and white paint primarily goes with my most recent performances, “broken(a.)” and “broken(b.)” and “Expected Outcomes” which will eventually become one larger performance.

P: In your most recent show at the MEME gallery, you started using color paints in addition to the black and white, why?
JH: They’re colorful! All of the drawings I had made of those little 2×2 frames had color paint in them. I just wanted them to be active and “beautiful”. When I went looking for paint at the art store, I was most attracted to the fluorescents, so I used those, and to that construction orange. Which by the way is the same color for the robes the Buddhist monks in Laos and Cambodia wear. Work = Worship? ?

S: How did the work evolve in “A beautiful Art Show for you”?
JH: It started by just bringing all of the materials I was interested in using down to the space, plus the usual assortment of performance materials I usually bring to events. Then I started to get involved in making a bunch of wood objects that I have had in my sketchbooks over the last couple of years. For some reason, I made a bunch of things that were roughly 2’x 2’. I worked on some video in the space, which I eventually decided did not really make sense with the rest of the show. I knew at some point that I would want to put paintings on the wall that would drip down onto the floor, so I made a bunch of those. I started concentrating on objects that would have some use, or be active while people were at the opening/closing and I worked out a couple of actions that could be used if I decided I needed to do something in the space while people were there. Then I brought that old black and white video camera down thinking that I could have a live feed of some of the boxes projected onto the wall. I think that worked to join some of the ideas I had together, especially the early 70’s style of performance and minimalist sculpture I was experiencing making myself.

S: Who was the Beautiful Art show for?
JH: You. (and me.) And Rose Hill.

S: At the closing, you created a performance that had a “soundtrack,” from the B-movie, “Bucket of Blood”.  How did you arrive at the decision to use this sound for your piece?

JH: I had run through a lot of sound options, and I was listening to some movies that I had recorded the audio from that I have used in sound performances in the past. I was listening to “Bucket of Blood” and laughing to myself about how it was so appropriate, especially considering I was really trying to be a real artist and make sculptures and paintings. So that just sort of happened during the opening/closing, I knew it went with that action.

P: Tell me about one experience that has influenced, inspired or effected your performance work.
JH: Watching my dad (and helping him) work hard on the weekends in the back yard. This is fundamental.

P: What is your favorite performance you’ve ever seen?
JH: Here is a list in no particular order:

• That Grey Wolf (Survival of the Fittest, 2007) performance by Marthe Fortun and Yoonhye Park at Contaminate2

• Julie Andre T. at One Gallery with the tea kettles screaming and her rolling on the floor and the buckets of liquid and all of the awesomeness, or her climbing the carpet up to the ceiling in Beijing, or any performance really.

• Persephone and Hades with Mari Novotny-Jones and David Miller, Directed by Marilyn Arsem, where I fell asleep and woke up thinking I was still dreaming
• A David Miller performance at Mobius in the 90s. (I can’t remember the title)
• “The Painter” video/performance by Paul McCarthy (one of my all time favorite pieces…)

• Some performances by Andre Stitt that I will never see in person, but would really like to.
• Three Ulay and Abramovic performances: where they walk into each other repeatedly, where they move the walls by walking into them, and where they stand naked face to face in the doorway of the gallery.
• A performance by Jamie McMurry that I have only seen on video where he topples three huge plywood pillars onto himself.
• Most bike races, but especially the spring classics.
• A performance by Arti Grabowski where he gets onto a chair and chops the legs out from under himself with an ax. Brilliant!
• Anything Alastair MacLennan does. I just like paying attention to him.
• There are more! I don’t have room and I am leaving people out! Sorry! I’ll make a longer list…Deva Eveland controlling all of us from the trunk of the car in the IBC parking lot. Anaise Nadair destroying that couch at TEST. Paul Waddell in anything he does, Kid Epicene making me scared for her life by crawling across a busy street in the middle of the night in a black plastic bag…And on and on and on…Travis Fuller Ghost Killa! Ahhhh!

P: Favorite death metal band?
JH: Cannibal Corpse, Kataklysm, Amon Amarth, a couple of Agoraphobic Nosebleed “songs”, new Celtic Frost…I tend to like it fast and aggressive. Sorry.

S: Final words/thoughts GO!
JH: WORDS!!!!!!