|17.0 x 19.5 x 17.7 cm|
I was in my studio on Bleecker street around 2000. Something broke or failed to work or I perceived something as broken or failing to work; I got pissed off and launched a bucket of paint across the room. This cigar box was lying flat on my desk, holding these papers, where a good deal of paint landed. It looked to me like a collaboration between Schwitters, Yves Klein and Pollack. I kept it to make art out of, but thought it kind of already looked like art, or at least the imitation of art (the visual aspect without the intention), and then I was reminded of my distaste for formalism, and maybe this was an accident that talked about the importance of intent. Then I told myself to stop talking.