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After spending 10 minutes trying to park, I met Emily Paul at a little Mexican joint just off the main drag. We sat down, ordered some nachos and a pitcher of margaritas, and got down to business.
Owen: Hast you been art thou going?
Emily: I arth been so nat I going.
O: Relate your art to a physical object.
E: A wooden puzzle. Like when you were a kid. Not that my art is a puzzle at all. I don’t know why that came out of my mouth, actually.
O: How tall are you, and how does this affect your artwork?
E: You know how you’re supposed to stand when you’re painting? Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. But I do notice I like to keep my left hand in my pocket. I’m right-handed, you see.
O: What about art makes it art?
E: Well … what … well … in my opinion, art is fun. I like making art for decoration and enjoyment. I like enjoying art.
O: Why acrylic paint?
E: Because oils suck. Because oils get all over everything — it touches your sandwich. Do they have strawberry daiquiris here?
O: Yes, let’s get one. Anyway, who or what is most responsible for your artwork?
E: I am, physically. I dunno. I’m like no, it’s some weird state that I somehow disappear into NPR and painting. Then I come out of it and I’m like, how the F did that just happen?
O: Fill in the blanks:
1.____________
2.____________
3.____________
4. ???????
5. Profit
E: Okay.
1. Mask
2. Gun
3. Bank
4. ???????
5. Profit
O: How does it feel to be the first woman to land the double cork?
E: Personally, it made me nauseous.
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