DAVID HEO

David Heo (b. 1992, Acworth, Georgia) creates artwork that flirts with a variety of genres, including large-scale paintings, works on paper, mural paintings, and brand collaborations. Heo employs elemental materials – acrylic, paper collage, and crayon – to create an intricate interlacing of layers. Through his many influences, such as, short stories, action films, and lo-fi music, Heo improvises intimately between abstraction and biography which synthesizes his lived experiences. Heo received his MFA in 2018 at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and has held solo exhibitions in galleries throughout the country, as well as group exhibitions around the world, in countries such as England, Belgium, France, and South Korea.

Hi David! Thanks for joining me for Mint Tea. To begin, what’s your favorite tea? If you don’t drink tea, what kind of coffee or drink do you enjoy the most?

It's not that I don't like tea, I just don't drink it as much as coffee. If I had to pick a favorite, I like black teas. I like things with strong flavor. And then aside from that, my daily thing is a double espresso with a side of sparkling water.

Could you tell me about your background and your practice?

Background as a human or as an artist? So the elevator pitch is: born and raised in Georgia, left at 18, went to Chicago, been here now for so long. So it's more so like a synthesis of, optimistically, the South is very polite, very kind, and the Midwest works very hard. So I think a lot about those two things. But then it's also strange, because me being Korean, I chose two very white places to live in. So that's a lot of the information for me as a human. Artistically, my practice, if I had to narrow it down, I think empathy is a huge thing. Empathy as an idea and a construct is very interesting to me, because it's something that humans inherently feel, but they have a very hard time articulating it. Like, think about how many times you've heard the word empathy in the last two years, right? It's almost become so empty. When I was younger, I used to think I loved nightlife. I loved watching people have fun, I loved how the colors change at night. But then as I got older and learned how to articulate it more, I realized that it wasn't nightlife I was interested in, I was really interested in seeing people be happy, or people experiencing waves of sadness, and they're doing it with their friends. So my practice, I think, is driven from that fact. It expanded from just being an image maker to kind of understanding, “How do I just make my world bigger?” So that's what it is: muraling is a community oriented thing, and working with corporations and brands is more like, “If I can collaborate with them and be a team player, how can I inject the merits of art into something like capitalism?” So it's not about making a cool thing, it isn't about capitalizing on empty things like empathy or community, it's like, how do I make something, understanding that there's a 16-year-old version of me right now that can use it to convince his parents or her parents that they can be artists too. My practice thinks about other people and the idea of pursuing what they want to do, and for me, how do I take that and then make work inspired from that?

So what kind of artwork do you make?

I would say mixed medium things. Like, I am a two-dimensional based person. It's not that I'm against ever being three-dimensional, but there's something about using my hands to manipulate a flat surface to just create something magical. And it doesn't have to be like pretty or deep or political. It's just, I like taking these mediums, and then hopefully, if I can harmonize them well enough, like a good song, I think that would be one of the joys of creativity. And then aside from that, I’m just a simple image maker.

What projects are you working on right now?

I had one group show at New Image Art, and then a group show in Tokyo, and then a group show in Boston at Abigail Ogilvy, and then a group show in Chicago in November. And then my next solo is with Hashimoto Contemporary in April, so from now until then, it's me just thinking about my work. I find joy in it, I feel joy. If the privilege in this job is that truly is all the time in the world is my time, I feel like I owe it to myself to fill it with things that are challenging. It's not just about working, it's about maintaining that fire, because I've only done this for four years, man, it's kind of scary to think I gotta do it for another sixty. So I want to make sure that it's still full of energy and exciting, and I don't want to make the same shit every fucking day now.

For those projects, what are some of the themes? Is it a continuation of your previous body of work or is it something else?

So, I had a revelation in Korea. My show concept was taking something I've thought about as a Korean American and understanding that if I go to Korea, I'm going to the primary source. That's where it came from. Earlier I had mentioned like, I was into empathy. And I realized that it's not empathy in a sense of the Western idea, but more like han and jeong. I was raised with the idea of han, my dad drilled it into me, he was like, “If you're ever sad, it's not your fault. It's because you're born this way.” When I was a kid, I thought my dad was just telling me I was a sad kid, right? I really didn't understand. And then he was explaining to me that Korea has suffered generations of colonization and trauma for so long that Korean people are just born with sadness. So I didn’t know there's an opposite called jeong until my undergrad days. Jeong is a cool idea, because it's not what you think, like bliss and happiness, it's the reason why Korean people don't drink alone. Or when you see them go out after work to get fucked up, that is a version of jeong, because it's the idea of spending time with the people that you understand are as equally sad as you. I'm like, wow, that is what empathy should be. But in this country, we call it self-care, and I don't think that works. Korea makes it work because it is a community-driven society. So that was very interesting to see, when I was there. Like, I would be out, and then for some reason this waitress would be like, “Oh, here's some service.” I'm like, “Oh, thank you, this is so nice of you.” It would just be a little thing of food. And then she would just say, “It looks like you're having a lot of fun with your friends, we'd like for you to stay longer.” It's not really a business tactic, it was more so that she probably recognized what that felt like when she was our age, and she just wanted to perpetuate the happiness for us. So that was so interesting to see in Korea.

So I realized that for the last three years of my life, all of my shows are just iterations of the conversations that I would have with myself. So honestly, the work that I made in 2021, it sucked. Not even as a visual thing, but my heart wasn't in it. I felt like I was still navigating a lot of shit that I never got to really address. So I started making work about that, and then I think my collectors and the galleries got really turned off because they're, like, “A little bit dark, my dude!” And so at that moment, I realized that this was not the path for me, the idea of just being a gallery artist. 2022 came around, and I was like, I need to close this chapter of never-ending sadness. And so coming back from Korea, the new ideas I come back with, my tank is full again. I don't think I need to convince anyone that I'm Korean. I don't need to convince Korean people that I'm Korean. And it's like, okay, how do I take this idea of a liminal space, and then like expand upon manifesting that visually into the world? So that's what I have to make work about. I think that's kind of hard, because how do you take something, such an abstract concept like identity, not in the sense of how you and I look, but in the sense of making sense of yourself during your lifetime. So I think this, as a concept, is not brand new, I think that is a function of art. But how do I tackle that when I'm not the main character in the art canon. What does that then translate as? I don't know how to say that succinctly, but that's where my projects are going to go towards, really maximizing this idea of duality. Han, jeong, happiness, sadness, wanting to belong, but also being more self-secure, right? I think that tension is very informative to me lately, because I saw so much of it in Korea. I have never met a society of humans that were so aware of their sadness. They're overworked, there's no room for expression, there's no room for risks, so they just drown themselves in alcohol. And I was like, “I mean, at least you're not doing it alone, but damn, go to a therapist or some shit.”

I am the most familiar with your mixed media works that often include a blend of crayon, colored pencil, acrylic, oil stick, paper collage and more. Can you talk about how and why you choose to work with the media that you do?

I mean, it's funny. That all started when I was in grad school, we had advising meetings every two weeks and I just could not financially afford to buy canvas and stretchers every fucking week. It was like, how do I figure out how to make art in the immediate sense? So I made a list of materials that I liked using, like pencil, pen, whatever. But I remembered a lot of the shit I used as a kid, and I was like, “Oh, that's not a crazy thought.” You can get a box of crayons, you can get construction paper, there's a lot of tools that you can just use to express. But then what did it for me, I remember reading more about Matisse at the time. During like the end of his life, he started making these cutouts because his body wasn't painting anymore. When I was looking at these things, I was like, “Oh, this is like analog Photoshop, this idea of collaging, but painting on the paper, it really is!” Now, I can speak about it so much more, but at the moment, there was a very wonderful sense of joy to paint on paper. If I fucked it up, I didn't feel like I lost anything. I could just, rip it up, get a new sheet, paint it and then add on. So I think that, as a practice, really helped me balance out being a painter. Because painting, I feel like, it's not that I'm overthinker, but I like to consider the next move every time I paint. If I lay blue, my brain is already thinking, “What goes with blue? How do I pair it with this? What textures do I think about?” Whereas when I collage, it's pretty much intuition. I come up with my sketch, and then I just go at it. But the whole idea of like mixed mediums, I truly, really think that paint operates in a very different way than wax does, right? So when you make a mark with a brush, you can see the speed. I think it's pretty cool. Like, I think about Cy Twombly a lot, and I always like looking at his paintings in person, because you can see the speed of when he did a graphite move. Cy Twombly was a huge influence in the idea that mediums have language. What happens if you harness it to try to combine a language? Visually, I like to think of like my works as fluent in a lot of languages, so it's like talking to somebody who's bilingual or trilingual, as opposed to I look at just a painting, and it's like a monolingual speaker. I'm like, okay, you're a master of this craft, but I'm not interested in being a good painter. I feel like that's just like a tedious quest. It's just more so how do I make painting exciting for myself? So I think that's where the mixed mediums come in, and I don't think I'm ever gonna lose that.

What is your creative process like? Do you start your work with a specific image in mind from the beginning or does it evolve organically as you go?

It's a little bit of both. I'm a very routine-based creature. So during my shower and my coffee and my cigarette, in total, that's like 40 minutes. During those 40 minutes, I don't check my phone, I think about what I want to do for the day. I reflect about what happened either the week or the day before, and then try to think of a way to materialize that as an image, and then I come up with a sketch, get to the studio, sketch it out, and then I make it. But as I make, it deviates away from the original composition, because it's just me responding as I make. So it's not necessarily like I go to the sketch one-to-one, it's like one, and then maybe scribble, zigzag a few times, and meet back to one. I would say it's just more of a responsive process, but it's definitely intentional to think about my compositions first.

I think for me, colors inform a lot. When I'm out with my friends, or when I'm eating, or I’m walking, if I see a nice combination of colors, the colors kind of help generate. Like, how do I take this palette and then make it into something? And then aside from that, strong memories play a huge role, in the sense of when you do something, and you are immediately aware of what you're doing, I think that's the moment of appreciation. Carl Jung is a huge influence in the sense that when he wrote the idea that people identify more with animals, I was like, that kind of makes sense. And also, all of Korean mythology, every animal has sentience, they speak, they feel, they smoke. So I think the idea of creating the image as a composition was never challenging because everything in the world can be poetic. So it's like, how do you take two seemingly disparate things, like if I want to take a Ferrari and a rabbit, and then put them in the same image, that's not a crazy thought to me, because they both have symbology in my brain. When I make that, it's like, how do I then translate that and hope that the viewer injects their own memories with something like that? So symbology plays a huge part, because I think it's cool that we make sense of the world based off sounds or sights or images, and if you have enough of it you can actually create your own lexicon of painting. Worldbuilding, but just true to yourself.

I think mythology always played a huge role. My mom always told me folk stories from Korea. And when I was young, I read a lot about Egyptian and Greek mythology, and outside of that, Irish mythology influenced me a lot. I think for me, it's not necessarily about like the fantastical natures of these stories, but how similar the moral is despite the culture. It's pretty interesting that there have been overlaps between what it means to be a human. So me doing these vases and ceramics was never a crazy thing, because my mom has a lot of these replica Goryeo vases growing up when I was a kid, I always just thought as decoration. And in the Art Institute at the museum here, they have a big collection of Greek vases, and I remember looking at them and then they would be a water jug or a wine jug. They had a very functional use, but these people felt inclined to tell stories on them. And so my brain at the time was like, “Okay, why don't I just do the same thing? Why don't I take a vessel and like tell contemporary stories, it's not that crazy.” But then over time, I realized I started doing too many Western narratives in the sense of, why depict with a Greek vase? So last year was me reevaluating more about those Goryeo vases that my mom had. That's why it was interesting going to Korea this time, because I went to the history museum and I got to see a lot more. It's not only just about aesthetics, it's like, for them that color is uniquely theirs, they can be proud of it. But then from there, how do you take something decorative, or ornamental, and then add thought to it? And I feel like that belief is very different than a Western belief, because for them, the pressure is just, let's make something look good. So vases have always played a huge role, I'll never get tired of it. But I'm not trying to be a vase dude for the rest of my life, you know.

What inspires the images behind your work?

I think the images from my work, it’s an ongoing conversation. Like, I think the day I painted dogs was when Trump won office. For me, it's always been a responsive thing. It's not that I figured out how to do something early on, it’s that I realized that if my hand does enough, the same thing over and over again, there's got to be something important in there. Six years ago, that’s when I realized that I don't need to paint white boys, or I don't need to paint a figure anymore. How do you take something like the coup, and then make it into an image that's not just didactically about the coup? So I think that's where my brain is, as an artist. If there's certain symbology, or certain moves that my hand always does, that means my brain is too slow to keep up for now, so I'm going to hold myself accountable to excavate through this continuous image making so that I'll figure out what these answers are going to be about. Once I get that, I feel like the optimism is that they're going to evolve. They're not just going to be readily understood, like, “Oh, this is David's shit. That's very much his work.”

Can you talk about any imagery or symbols that you like to work with?

I will always explore what rabbits are, for Korean people. That’s a very different belief, like, they're very smart, quick, they're always there to help. And then my mom is a very superstitious woman, so her being Korean was like one layer of superstition, but her living in the South for so long, she became even more superstitious. So rabbit’s feet would always be my home, too, but rabbit’s feet are such a Western idea. How do you take the same animal and it has the same exact meaning throughout cultures? But the rabbit’s foot is nuts, because if you think about it, it's kind of violent. You got to cut off these feet. And so I think that's an interesting parallel. When you see how the rabbit is depicted and talked about in Korean mythology or folklore, then you see the exact opposite, same symbols, but different treatment. I think for me, that is a good analogy of the synthetization of being Eastern and Western. When you have two sources of information, you have the same symbol, they're approached in two different ways, how do I take that same symbol and then take it so that I feel it matches a contemporary moment for myself? So 2020 to ’21 was an interesting time because I think there was a moment of, society really reached a new low. If that had never happened in our lifetime, I wonder how different our lives would be, you and I. So it was really different, but then 2021 was a very different year, because truly, I've never seen more people try harder to be happier. There's a lot more conversation about mental health, or there's a lot more conversation about moving forward. So I think just trying to match that conversation, how do I take something like that, and then add it on to different exploration of colors, or forms, or textures, or even titling, and just make sure that I hold myself accountable to the moment that I am in, as an artist, as opposed to thinking that it's my job to make things more mysteriously encoded for the same five rich people in the world.

I love your work and how it references and reinterprets motifs from folklore and mythology. Is there a story that you particularly like, or are especially inspired by?

I don't know the Korean title, but it's like Red Riding Hood, kind of. It was like a brother and a sister, the grandma went up to get something, grandma got eaten by a tiger, tiger put her clothes on, tried to convince them. I think about the story a lot. I wouldn't say it's heavily influential, but that's definitely like a memory that I still hold on to. I remember my mom reading to me, because I remember feeling scared. I remember that, I remember being like, “Oh, this tiger is so smart!” But then they cried to the heavens and a rope magically fell from the sky, so there's a little flavor of magical realism in this too. I think that kind of story sticks with me more so than Western stories like the turtle and the hare, you know?

I often see depictions of dogs and tigers in your works. What do they mean to you? Is there a reason that you choose to depict a specific type of dog, such as a Doberman?

I think it's interesting that art, specifically, has a long history with dogs. It’s a very culturally unique thing on its own, but it's also the only animal that's leashed, if you think about it. No matter if it's a domesticated animal or not. So for me, 2016 was a weird time, 2020 was even weirder. I feel like my understanding of how people are operating was so far removed from the idea of humanity, that it helped me to anthropomorphize and take qualities of a human and depict it with animals. And for me a Doberman has its own cultural meaning as well, but a tiger is like, name a more fucking Oriental symbol to people. I think it's interesting that if I paint these things, they’re so much more recognizable as cultural things as opposed to painting a person. I used to be more of a figurative painter, but for the longest time, the biggest questions would be like, “Who is this person to you?” And that was never the important part, more so like, what does the painting mean to you? And it's funny because every story that you and I have talked about, all the animals are still speaking. So I think I'm going to always have an evolving language and depictions of like specific archetypes of humans in my work. But tigers are interesting because it is important to us culturally, but often I forget that to a Western person, it's almost exoticized as well. Do you know a painter named Walton Ford? He's one of my favorites, a scientific illustration looking motherfucker. When you see him paint these animals, they look like objects of conquest as opposed to personified examples of human experiences. His work is beautiful. It's very stunning, but it's a very different use of what animals can be. And so I think for me, it's not about humanizing them for people to empathize with, it’s can I depict something that felt familiar to you? Or does it echo upon a feeling that is familiar as a human? And I think that is my interest of exploring more with animals.

Dogs, I love all dogs. I mean, Dobermans themselves, visually, it's a very aesthetic dog. I think for me my interest started as, Asian people have black hair, what is a black dog? I think that's where I started from.

I personally am obsessed with ceramics, especially Greek pottery and Korean vessels. When you design your own versions of ceramics to include in your work, how do you go about it? How do you decide on the specific shapes and textures, and the narratives to paint upon them?

I feel like the form of the vase that I pick informs what the image is. So a Korean moon jar is unlike a Grecian vase, proportionately. If I were to choose a moon jar, my brain defaults to landscape. Whereas a Goryeo vase that's more top heavy than it’s bottom heavy, that seems like portraiture to me. So if I choose the formation of the vase, from there, I like to think about, imagine in your brain that you are rotating this thing around? Where are the spots that your eyes would go to? So that's how I decide to put certain scenes in this part, or this part. Vases are nice, because they also have iterations and serializations in their own unique way. I could use the same vessel if I wanted to, but I could pick different narratives amongst that vessel. So when I think about vases, it's more of a technical exercise about if I have this much space to depict something, what then becomes a negative space? I think that, as opposed to all over composition, it's a nice moment for me to check in to see how I tell a short story, as opposed to writing something like Harry Potter.

I also see figures in your art. Who are they, or who do they represent?

Long story short, the figures in my work are an amalgamation of what we decide as a human. They used to be specific people, but then like I said, it just became so distracting to people because they're like, “Who is this person?” I got so frustrated with that. I was like, how do I like synthesize my experiences with people to create like a general figure in my work? This person, this woman or this man, is a stand-in of an experience and a feeling, rather than portraiture. It's not about who they are as a person, it’s just who do they represent, what do they represent, how does this contrast with this?, I think I'm way more interested in hands than I am with faces lately, because plastic surgery hides the face, but you can't get rid of time on your hands. So for me, it's how do I do portraiture with hands more, and then deviate away from figure painting?

What are your favorite colors? Do they find their way into your artworks?

Sometimes. I mean, my current favorite color is a sage green right now. But that's because I'm biased, this color is fucking lovely. But no, I don't really think so. Like, Korea was interesting, because I limited my show to only use temple colors, dancheong: red, green, yellow, blue, black. That's it, just like temple painting. For me, I think what color can do is that it limits and cages in this scary thought of how do you approach a blank canvas? If you limit your palette, you're forced to think about what to make. So I think for me, it's not like yellow means happy, I gotta use yellow.

Is there a new medium that you would like to try or to work in more?

Yeah, when I was in Korea, there's hanji, Korean paper made out of mulberry. We met with a hanji maker and I was like, “Oh shit, I'm just gonna ship this back to the States and make collages from Korean paper!” I thought hanji would be like very thin, like I've only seen thin examples, but I saw one that was thick as cardboard and was made out of mulberry trees. I’m like, that’s nuts. This thing doesn't bend, it's made so thick. I put in an order for a few different kinds of sheets so I can experiment and do the same collaging process but with Korean materials, so we'll see how that goes.

Can you talk about any films, animations, anime, comics, or games that you like and find visually inspiring?

I wouldn't say film inspires me like. I like dumb action movies, because I spend all day thinking. Why the fuck would I want to think during a movie, right? But let's see, Studio Ghibli was influential, like Spirited Away was really influential, Princess Mononoke was very influential. And aside from that, I loved Gundam, I loved Dragon Ball, I love all that. I think cartoons, comics and animation really impacted our generation as artists, because we grew up watching that shit or reading that shit, and now we live in such an image-saturated society. That's why you see so many hard edge painters, or airbrush painters, because we grew up where that influenced us. Yeah, specifically, I think anime influences me more than Western animation. Looney Tunes, I thought was kind of silly, and Courage the Cowardly Dog just messed me up. Aah! Real Monsters messed me up. There was a whole thing about Cartoon Network in the 90s, I was fucked up. This is probably why we have so many unhinged millennials, you know. New anime, I love Demon Slayer, and I love My Hero Academia. I'm not really into niche, very specific anime. When my friend’s like, “Oh, you gotta watch this!” I'm like, nah, that's a basketball anime, why do I want to watch that?

Where are you located now? Do you think where you are located influences your practice?

Yeah, living in Chicago, culturally, it's one thing, but living in a place that has severe seasons really does affect my practice. Like obviously, I'll do more murals in the summer because it's nice. But the winter here is probably somewhat like New York, except ours is more brutal because a lake is right there. So for me, the end of summer is like the perfect time because there’s the awareness that fall is happening. You got to enjoy whatever summer offers left. Because when it comes wintertime, I know I'm just going to buckle down and be a studio hermit. So the seasons do affect my schedule as an artist, because come summertime again, all I want to do is just be outside, so I try to take on no shows during the summer so I can just live. I just want to live as a human, but I only have three months of it, because fall, winter, and spring, I know I just have to be working all the time. Life is too short to not enjoy when the day is really beautiful.

How do you stay connected to your community?

For me, my community is truly just my small network of friends. I used to honestly go to so many more art openings here in Chicago. But for me, Chicago is a great place to be an artist, but it is not a good place to be supported as an artist. When I go to any opening, I can kind of know what to expect to see, which I don't want to see from any city. Like, Chicago loves its mixed media, quiet, abstracted material exploration, conceptual gestures, every fucking time. So I don't want to be a part of that community, and a lot of my friends who do murals and street art, that's also a very different set of communities, and then my friends who are dancers and poets, that's a whole different community, too. So I think I stay connected to my community by really being intentional with who I spend my time with. And then from there, all my friends are creative people, and I think we all do very vastly different things. So I think community is more of like a micro-network than it is a medium-based clique, if that makes sense.

What’s your favorite tool?

I think, music? Yeah, I always listen to music. If I didn't have music, I feel like I’d have a hard time being in studio. I like dance music, I like sexy R&B, I like pop punk. I have a bunch of playlists that are timed, so if I paint for two hours and 15 minutes, when that playlist is done I can take a break. So that's probably how I structure. If you ever need focus, make a playlist, and from start to end, you're done, you can take a break. So I have two hours, four hours, six hours, eight hours, ten hours. It’s really just a mixture. I like bops, like I'm a pretty basic bitch that way. I don't really like sad music. Like I said about action movies, I'm already sad, why would I want to feel sad? Whitney Houston is great, early N.E.R.D. Just like jams, 90s music, early 2000s.

What is the space where you do your work?

It’s just a studio, it has a nice view.

Do you have any ritual that helps you get into the zone?

Yeah. I am a very routine based person. So me moving to this new neighborhood, I have to figure out how to do my old routine. So like I said, wake up and make a small cup of coffee at home. Think about the day, go get espresso, think more about my day. I walk to my studio, get to my studio, and then during that whole morning, I should be ready to work at that point. And generally I work until I physically get hungry. And I'll stop, and then get back into it. And then if I put enough hours that I feel like I did it for the day, then I'm just done for the day. So it could be ten or it could be two, doesn't really matter.

When do you know when you are finished with your artwork or a body of work?

I'm a big believer of not overworking it. So there will be a moment. Like I finished that small painting up there, and yesterday, I was like, “I think I'm done.” I think it's more of a feeling, right? I don't think I need to add anything else to this to get my point across. It's just more so a gut reaction, I think.

Are there any Korean artists who you especially like?

Yeah, Suh Do Ho is one of my favorites. He uses silk to build his houses. And then Lee Bul is dope. But aside from that, there's not a lot of Korean artists from that generation. I feel like there's a newer generation of Korean artists I fuck with. Like, Anna Park’s work is dope. And then Mike Lee, he also does black and white paintings. And Sasha Gordon, as well. But I feel like for me, it's not necessarily my favorite historic or well-established Korean artists. I think there's a new breed of like Asian American contemporary artists out there.

Who are your favorite practicing artists?

This is hard. Let's see, Robert Nava is always one of my favorites. And then Vivian Greven, her paintings are sick. Robert Nava, he's also a super dope guy. Used to be a Chicago-based guy. His paintings are amazing. When you talk about whimsy, and you talk about gestural, I think he does it very well. And Vivian Greven is like the opposite. Her paintings are like all about control, in the sense that when you see it, you're like, wow, that must have taken a lot of time. Another one would be Claire Tabouret, her paintings are lovely.

What gives you the feeling of butterflies in your stomach?

This is a terrible answer, it's the wrong kind of butterflies. It's more of a little excitement. You ever go to like Chipotle, and then they ask you what rice, and then they give you like a good scoop of rice? And you're like, “Oh, yeah.” That makes me really happy. I'm just like, “Fuck yeah, man. I got a lot of rice in that thing!” But the real answer is, I like when I witness people shoot their shot, and it goes well, I'm always happy for them. Just like, good for you, man.

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