How to Get Banned from a Mall for Life

In a way, I think that’s the only honest kind of art left. The kind no one asked for. The kind that resists explanation. The kind you make and tuck away, because you needed to make it. Because it meant something to you, even if it’s unclear what.

To me, this is the realest form of art there is. Art where it’s hard to even decipher why exactly someone is doing it, who exactly it is for, what exactly it means, and if it even has a meaning. If you want to ascribe any number of meanings to it, you can.