Well, last spring one of my [vacuum-formed] bomber jackets (2005) was bought by MoMA. That piece was supposed to be an iconic image, but then when it’s actually on the walls of MoMA—I don’t know, it’s a shock to feel that your odd loose ends are being tied up. All of the things that didn’t make sense start being named, you see that people behind the scenes have been stitching you into the fabric of your time. I’m not complaining, I was happy about it. But it felt uncomfortable too.