In Amsterdam recently, I saw a piece by Sands Murray-Wassink that read, “Humor is my saving grace.” I loved its simplicity. Recently, I’ve also been reading Slavoj Žižek’s Žižek’s Jokes (2014), a book my girlfriend Isabelle gave me last month. I’ve been dipping into it on train rides to and from the studio, laughing at odd moments. Humor is a big part of my life, but I’ve never intentionally integrated it into my work.

Meanwhile, my mind has been occupied with my upcoming exhibition in Berlin. Out of this intersection, I decided to combine the two—Žižek’s Jokes and the objects I’ve been working with and/or considering for the show. I took a direct approach: placing my works atop Žižek’s Jokes. It felt strange and out of place, which I like.

Since I prefer my practice to stay rooted in everyday reality, I approached this contribution in a photographic way. My background is in photography, and though I no longer work strictly within the medium, it still informs my process. In the past, I’ve documented my studio, friends, and surroundings. The objects are fragments of past sculptures—some discarded, some intended for exhibition. I think of this series as an interplay of fusion and deformation.

Despite barely managing to read at all lately, books have always been central to me—I’ve run a publishing house for years—so I liked the idea of using Žižek’s book as a “frame” for the sculptures. The objects obscure parts of the jokes, erasing and highlighting words simultaneously. Žižek isn’t a major reference for me or my work, but I appreciate his accessible take on philosophy and I find his humor endearing—even when his jokes fall flat. I once named a work after a joke by Norm Macdonald, and I’ve performed it at a few readings. For these photos, I could have chosen a book from an author more directly tied to my practice, but I prefer working with what’s at hand—what naturally aligns with my current experiences, art making, and relationships. The connection between text and objects emerged intuitively. If you listen or look closely, things suggest their own placement. This kind of serendipity also guides how I set up exhibitions.