A product of being both unprofessional and uninspired is that my work is generally about myself and my family. Maybe I am just lazy – it is the material closest to hand. Maybe I am only able to engage with autobiographical interpretations of artworks, even though a hundred possible readings might exist, because that is what my subconscious projects. I don’t feel like I’m always questioning myself and my relationships, but the evidence is sort of undeniable. The only artists I get excited about seem to bang on about themselves.