Materials: ivy, bird shit, cigarette end on paving stones
As a toddler my parents called me Little Jackson Pollock. At supper I would move energetically around the room, flinging, dripping, pouring and spattering. The results looked like an accident, but I knew exactly what I wanted and I used every muscle in my body to get that. This work brings me back to those suppers. Look at the colours in that bird shit: blue, green, white, grey, black, all brought forward by the ivy and the paving stones.
Some people say NUMBER TWO is a reference to the euphemism ‘to defecate’, and therefore I would be calling Pollock a shitty artist. They suggest I am committing artistic patricide. To those people I say: ‘Stop it! I am not nearly as good as Jackson Pollock! Pollock is number one and this comes second.’