Where are you?
When? When I am performing?
Or when you are not performing. I’m circulating.
Like… tumblr?
Like currency.
Ah…I see. And this is your “real job”…
It depends- If you’re a GWC or a photographer then this is how I pay the bills, I get photographed.
What’s a GWC?
Guy with Camera.
Ah. Are all the people you work with men?
The ones that pay me are.
What about here?
I’m not getting paid.
So it’s something different? Do you consider yourself a ‘net artist’?
I’m a net worker.
What about persona?
I’m not interested in multiple selves, but multiple capacities. Talking to cameras, this is a skill-set I learned on Myspace. But the ability to produce the self carries with it an antagonistic capacity when the self becomes something to deploy and consume.
I’m more interested in consumers. And reblogs.
What does it mean to be “at” work? Like at the site of work?
Work is just the task of manipulating and formatting my body. This is the case whether I am a barista or just reworking my Facebook. Penelope Machine is an entrepreneurial solution to making the relationship between myself and my representation a contractual one.
So you are yourself? Or someone else?
I’m an interface. I just shuffle signs, along with the denial and promise a certain gesture might carry. Movement here, before the camera, is synchronized with the movement of information and capital. I’m inextricable from both the gaze and the lens, but Penelope Machine has an autonomous existence… I’m the image trafficker- independent from, but always in relation to, the images I produce.
So if I said, “give me innocence” or “give me sadness” you could do it? Like acting?
Well I can’t give you any of those things. But I could convince you that whatever happens is what you’re paying for.
How much money do you make?

"Helene was not walking / on the ramparts; / she who you’ve condemned / was but a phantom, a shadow worn / an image reflected."

— (H.D., Helene in Egypt, I, 1, 3)

"the need for a narrative of the self - in order to not succumb to identity-idleness and to the madness of not seeing yourself in your own acts anymore - now fills the psychoanalysts’ pockets. All we’re left with is information (neutral, aseptic, appalling) – and our passivity as receivers. There’s nothing left to say: experience and narrative have divorced one another."

"Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one will be left."

portrait of a woman called the none