My junior year of high school I lay in a crucifix position on the floor of my art history class wearing only a pair of 501's. I had someone saran-wrap ice-cubes onto my arms and then place a 15 lb block of ice on my chest.

The "piece" was called "Cold War." The ice would cause my muscles to tighten and become tense as the escalating arms-race between Russia and the US. (Keep in mind, this was '87 and I was listening to Bauhaus and doodling mushroom clouds on my geometry notes.)

As the ice melted on me, I went into a pain/cold trance and my concentration disintegrated. I forgot everything I intended to say and started telling stories about times in my life when I'd been really, really cold.

Funny...even then, I used art as an excuse to parade around with my shirt off.

May 3, nineteen98