You know that girls giving zero fucks is something that interests me, and you also know that I love an art moment (if and only if I can see myself fucking the artist), so may I present to you my latest reason to live, Andrea Mary Marshall.
She seems like a total psycho. Like, some people just seem like total psychos and yet, you kind of wish that they were at your house right at this moment, sharing this bottle of prosecco with you.
My manager/interns are still trying to convince her manager/interns to let her do a collaborative installation this year at Art Basel with me where I sleep nude in a bed of cigarettes while she sits next to me, indian-style, sipping on boiling hot shiso leaf broth, occasionally coughing in my face. So, fingers crossed that she responds to my team soon. I’m gonna need to stop eating now if I want to be installation-ready by the end of October.
Best of all, her work reminds me that vandalizing my archived Vogues, personalizing cigarette boxes with Crayola paint, and going to parties covered in fake blood, is actually chic behavior, and not immature or childish. So basically, my ex-boyfriend and his stupid therapist can suck my dick. But seriously, for the love of love, check out her shit, stalk her, become her friend, become her boyfriend, her girlfriend, her mother, her father, impregnate her, love her, kill her. JK do not kill her. Shut up.