Yes, even before I started art school, I drew a lot of nudes; went to the slaughterhouse and photographed mountains of flesh, mold colonies, and plastic dolls in bags. That might sound a little embarrassing, but I had a post-adolescent liking for meat, skin, and slime. Those moments in between subliminal nausea and nervous fascination were and still are very haunting. For a long time, I worked on drawing a dead mouse, for example; I kept it in the freezer and took it out again and again, so that I could draw it—until the smell became really unbearable. I also tried to paint, at first, but I can’t deal with paint. Too pictorial, too flat, not enough resistance. I can’t deal with it, but I can’t leave it alone, either. So I keep using paint in my works, as a material, as a kind of skin, which I pour on top of an object, kind of like soup, letting it flow down like a tough emulsion, or spraying it around, like fog. I still draw—I did the little floor plans for this catalogue, for instance. On the other hand, I’ve been falling behind when it comes to drawing freely. I’ve got to start doing that again.