Here's what kills me about this whole enterprise: performance art is the most honest con job there is. It's designed to disappear. That's the whole fucking point. The moment happens, it burns, and then it's just memory and argument and somebody's half-assed description at a bar three years later. And I'm the guy trying to prove it existed.

The camera's a liar. It'll give evidence, sure. Proof of attendance. But it won't give you the smell of the space, the weird electricity when everyone realizes someone's about to do something genuinely dangerous or stupid or sublime. It won't give you that tightness in your chest when the performer's been at it for six hours and you can see them starting to crack.

The documentation isn't really about capturing it. It's about witnessing. I'm the guy who was there. My photographs are postcards from the edge of someone else's breakthrough or breakdown, and sometimes you can't tell which until years later. So I shoot it all. The pretentious garbage and the genuine article.