I write like this because I am not happy being the noble savage in someone else’s story. I write like this because I feel like there is too much that remains unsaid. I write like this because it is difficult not to. I write like this because I feel a need to be heard and acknowledged. I write like this because the complexity of our world is increasingly reduced to formulaic and unimaginative text and the world is so much more beautiful and plentiful than these let on. I write like this because there are so many other kinds of narratives and syntaxes that have not yet been discovered. I write like this because it is a cheap and efficient way of getting one’s ideas out there. I write like this because I cannot believe nobody wrote this text already. I write like this because text is such a big part of why things are the way that they are, and I would like to change the way things are. I write like this because it is a way of thinking about my place in the world, and what I could do better. I write like this because every art show must apparently have a generic text attached, and I think we must find ways of making these text more diverse, weirder, and less boring. I write like this because it is a way of becoming less sure of myself and examining things from more angles. I write like this because I am a collaborator at heart (at least In principle) and I often miss someone who is willing to have the discussions in my head with. I write like this because text is material that colours the thoughts that pass through it and not a neutral container for information. I write like this because I struggle with language, and it often irritates and escapes me. I write like this because I suck at spelling at gramma, so I must taste and hear the words to understand them. I write like this because language is so close to thinking, and I am trying to think. I write like this because it makes me feel as if I am “a part of the conversation”, not because I feel all that original or smart. I write like this because in writing my mistakes and biases are much clearer to me than otherwise. I write like this because I can do it on my smart phone, in between doing the dishes and mopping the floor. I write like this because it somehow, abstractly, feels important, but I could not do it without having the material engagement with the world that is my artistic practice. I write like this because I know too few others who write from the implicated material point of view that I feel working as an artist has given me. I write like this because I feel like there is much that remains to be said of the potential of the imperfect, unheroic and impure and I don’t know who else if interested at the moment. I write like this because it is hard to find time for it, and I really should be writing grant applications, press releases or something, anything, more profitable, but this feels more important.