Whether you're a lover or a hater, there's no denying that the Bay Area has given us some memorable music over the past few years. For some reason I feel the need to be an Oh Sees apologist, but if you don't dig 'em I can understand. I'm on their side. Sic Alps too. Odds are if you've bought records by either of these bands (or many of the other bands riding their wake) you've seen some of William Keihn's work. I'm no art "expert" or critic, but I know what I like. And I like William's work. His appropriation of nostalgic images and the emotions they provoke is something I felt the need to explore further as I travel on my own quest to relive or at least reclaim my childhood. Deep shit. I had a chance to talk to him via e-mail while his art show with Tim Presley ("They Just Stood There") was going on in SF. He gave me some answers that were a lot better tham my questions.

TB: Is there is one particular album cover that really made an impression on you or inspired you to go in the direction of "rock" art?
WK: I guess I hate to admit it but I never really noticed those Raymond Pettibon Black Flag covers much until post Sonic Youth's 'Goo', and so I think I'd have to dip back into my folks' record collection. I can't deny the massive simplicity of the 'White Album' or 'Dark Side of the Moon'. I'm always hoping that I will climb my aesthetic peak, reach my Dark Side. Later came the cut 'n' paste stylings of The Fall and others of their ilk.

TB: I can relate to that. I certainly spent a lot more time as a young stoner staring at Zeppelin and Steppenwolf records than Black Flag, which came to me later. Growing up in the Midwest/Indiana, were you active at all in the punk or hardcore scenes there as a youth? What was going on locally that you were into?
WK: When I was growing up, the skaters, fags, punks, ravers, and degenerates just sort of coexisted in a brown stew of music, drugs, and general dandy sport. In high school I would go to both punk and hardcore shows, but could easily be found flipping out at a local rave in my modest town of Muncie, Indiana. There were divides, but the lack of resounding culture actually being produced from my town meant that we all relied upon the third or fourth rate interpretation of what punk meant, what a poet was, or how to project an anti-authoritarian attitude - whether that be through music, art, skateboarding, or just smoking cigarettes at the only coffee shop located on the university campus. I was just telling my buddy Mike Donovan that I learned about Pavement from a sticker on some dude's skateboard. I would eat rolls of ecstasy and listen to the Velvet Underground with the queer college kids in their apartments. I would also get real sweaty and thrash around to the pop-punk and hardcore shows that were held in basements and living rooms scattered around town. So for me, I just took it all in and found my identity in this very small scene by keeping my ears and eyes open. When I graduated from high school, I hightailed it to Bloomington where the hills rolled and sort of hugged the culture into its landscape. There were more far-out things happening in that town around the turn of the millennium and I think I actually got my real punk education during my two years there. That's when I started to take pride in the history of Indiana and Midwestern punk like the Gizmos, Dow Jones & the Industrials, etc. I finally started to feel good about being from a fly-over state. I looked inward and I was digging into my regional heritage. There were certainly very few bands that wanted to stop through Indiana at that time. But I was fortunate enough to see Wolf Eyes at the local anarchist bookstore, be shuffled through psychedelia, and get some real political perspective along with a couple arrests. It was a fun time, and also probably pretty instrumental in my motivation to really take a serious stab at making art. After Bloomington I moved up to Indianapolis, the capital and a real shithole with cheap rent. I worked with a collective of screen printers and noise makers in an old STD/contraceptive factory, dubbed the Ghastly Cave that was our hub to produce art and music and also host weirdo noise shows. I have a great memory of playing a show in the cafeteria of this building with this really great band called Crotch Council - which contained Carlos from the Russian Tsarlag and my good friend Dorey Fox. Carlos was thrashing away on his two string guitar while sort of doing a Chuck Berry duck walk across the metal serving rack. It was a really beautiful show and I think there were maybe ten people in the audience including the band members. So, it was always difficult to really get something to stick, but we tended to make art for ourselves. As entertainment and as rebellion. Those were great times and frustrating times too. I really fed off of that. There was something to rail against and that was inspiring.

TB: I think it's interesting you mention an art collective there and in another interview I read you mentioned the Hipgnosis collective as well. Is there a similar thing going in SF now? I get the feeling from watching Mushroom Necklace and such that there's a strong community of friends you're working within and feeding off. Is there a group space of sorts you utilize?
WK: Down here in the garage rock ghetto there are some buds working together, but I know that I'm for sure trying to claw myself out. A lot of the factions in the Bay Area are bit more disparate than most internet folk probably assume. Its not as if there is a Factory or U.F.O. club or SEX-like boutique holding it all together. The Dead ain't all living in one house. In the salad days of this scene we for sure had The Eagle - the leather daddy bar that played host to many a good show early before some yups influenced the landlord to shut 'er down. I think individual groups have their little circles and potentially their respective hubs, but most of my friends are fiercely independent and I think any cross-pollination is going on behind closed doors and in one-on-one conversations and collaborations. So yeah, there's some cuddling, but the siblings ain't really putting out kids together. Its lonelier than one might imagine, which is really no complaint. You just start spotting these sycophantic hangers-on and tend to duck back into the dark corners that spawned a lot of the original ideas in the first place. Of course that could just be my Midwestern chip on the shoulder talking. Maybe the people I most respect round these parts are lone wolves that pack together for the right occasions.

TB: What do you think is the biggest difference between Midwesterners and West Coasters as far as approaching art/music, or even on a personal level? Do you think your time in SF has changed or influenced some of your midwestern "values" or ideas at all or as far as directions in your artwork - perhaps via things that you might not have been able to experience in Indiana? Are there any fellow midwesterners you've buddied up with out there?
WK: Man, people are people wherever you go. But having said that, vanity is definitely stronger on the coasts. I'll leave that one open. More seekers equals good, more creepers equals bad. This city is a shit show of money and improvidence. Definitely the most apolitical scene I've been involved in. I don't exclude myself either. I know that when I was met with the blight of the Midwest, I was much more politically charged. That's why Oakland is more radically open. In S.F. you are either a Googlite or you fuckin serve em. It's really gross to see all the wealth slammed up against abject poverty. I mean, I could do without the feces on the sidewalk, but at what cost? This city is losing its soul in a major way and I hate to say it but I think the Midwest has a bit more of it right now because shit don't come as easy in those parts. You gotta do it for yourself and you might not always have a large platform like we do here. But the good thing about my time here is that itís all coming to a head, the curtain has been pulled back and so have my eyelids. I'm starting a series of political posters with said bud, Mike D. Political action or commentary in our scene, in our culture, is either non-existent or is often scoffed at. It's a real risk not to come off like a self-righteous asshole but it's also hard not to be met by assholes when you are just trying to say your piece, to maybe stand up and politely say "There's still a war going on, there's a world outside of guitars, there's complacency everywhere you turn" or "Would you please stop dangling your head into the bright lit screen of your fucking smartphone?" I'm afraid that Google-punks are inheriting the red blood of San Francisco. Itís a shame. I guess I'm just grampin' on all this psychic clutter. As far as Midwesterners, I've got my close buds from Indiana. They are snatching the cake while itís available. They know they've got it good in a lot of respects, and I often hear from folks that we are some of the best. Eh, who knows about that one?

TB: What was the first record/band that used some of your art for a release or flier and how did it come about?
WK: There's an old compact disc release somewhere back in the past that I can't recall right now, but then I gave John Dwyer a print for Thee Oh Sees 'Master's Bedroom...' and printed a small run of an early Sharon Van Etten 7" release that I collaborated on with the niece of an old friend. I used to be a show promoter in Bloomington with a guy who lives in Oakland now and we used to come up with some pretty wonky posters. Kinda bullshit because he didn't really like relinquishing control too much, so I'd have to put up with his Comic Sans style shit. I think the first really good ones were also collaborations. I did a Lightning Bolt poster years back with Dusty from Mushroom Necklace that I think really cemented my interest in show posters as a legitimate art form. Maybe the years have burned some holes in my brain, but I know I did some pretty bad photocopies in high school. So yeah, I sort of just sprang forth from the ether I guess. I was pretty green when I moved to San Francisco and probably still am. Basically, no one took me seriously.

TB: Were you already acquainted with Dwyer and the Oh Sees music at the time you did the art? Was that something you did specifically for the record, or something already done that you (or him) felt was a good fit for the record?
WK: A good friend of mine was Dwyer's roommate. I used to visit San Francisco and stay with them. After getting chummy, Dwyer gave me some old Coachwhips stenciled posters. I sent him a copy of the print that he ended up asking to use for 'The Master's Bedroom...'. I was already a fan of everything that John did. I'd followed along with OCS to The Oh Sees and consequently became involved in the visual identity for Thee Oh Sees. I was real keen on what was happening in the underground San Francisco scene around the turn of the millennium. I'd already been working on large prints of monster masks and other pop ephemera and I guess it was just a perfect fit for what John was looking for. We've had a long relationship of collaboration.

TB: The connection between your art and the Oh Sees music seems very organic. I feel the same way about your collaborations with Sic Alps. How did you come to be acquainted and work with Mike Donovan?
WK: I've known Mike just about as long as I've lived in S.F., which is five years at this point. We met through Dwyer. I feel like we're a part of a sort of peace time Rainbow Division of this scene and we've all hunkered down on similar ideas or at least tend to support each others' endeavors. I've worked with Mike and Sic Alps for a few years now and even went so far as working on the art for 'Napa Asylum' for weeks only to have my art scrapped and be paid off in LSD. No hard feelings at all, but unfortunately I lost the acid. The band ended up rolling with a more knee-jerk idea that I think helped to better serve and preserve their aesthetic quest. Conversely and later down the line, Mike gave me complete control just to bang out the ĎVedleyí 7" that Drag City released. He wanted to be hands off. There's often a bumbling organic process of decision making that I wouldn't trade for more money and rigidity. The excitement always lies in the conceptualizing and the making, no matter if the origins are scrapped for a quick banger. Mike and I are intimate friends, but that all came after taking risks in collaboration. The same can be said for Eric Bauer who produces and engineers at his Chinatown studio, Bauer Mansion. I had my screen printing setup there for quite a while and we really developed our friendship from working together. These are people I sincerely look up to and champion their idiosyncratic tics. Most of us have rhythms with one another and that includes both solid friendships and exciting collaborations. That's the glue, man.

TB: I imagine after your work got some more visibility you started getting offers to do artwork for other bands/labels. Iím interested in the dynamic there; how do you choose what to do and what to pass on? Do you prefer to only work with bands youíre already acquainted with?
WK: I tend to be bad with working on projects for people who I don't know, whose projects I can't get behind, or for people I suspect of coattail riding. I'm in no way opposed to working with artists with whom I am unfamiliar but its just that there's rarely as much mutual trust. I've had offers that no doubt came about in large part due to my associations, but I'm less likely to break bread with some kid in the UK who has a garage rock band and is really eager to get ahead. I'm all for the band getting ahead, but not on account of some illusion that my aesthetic will help them get there. Itís also really hard for me to fathom that people that I don't know really respond to my work in a traditionally organic manner. I believe itís more often likely that global homogenization sort of fucks up our taste buds. Garage rock styling, like any other genre-zation used to quantify expressive creation, is bullshit. Winkle pickers plus budget guitars plus electric blues riffs doesn't equate to any larger sum beyond a pose if conceived under the misguidance of fashion. My art isn't psychedelic in that its gonna actually get you stoned, so I think itís important to be selective especially in these days of ever-saturating illusionary subcultures and their plateau oriented makers.
Admittedly, it can be hard to strike that balance between arrogance and insecurity with regards to my own art. I used to think it was called confidence, but now I tend to think its called modesty. How can one be scrupulous and not be self righteous? I think modesty and devotion are crucial. I never crowned myself a graphic designer, but that's because I don't jive with the common definition. Most typically it is someone who identifies with an occupation in which a reliance upon tools of technology are implicit to that very occupation and consequently generate income or profit in worlds devoid of brick and mortar. I'm simply not a graphic designer. I'm not a professional. I'm more of a Lego builder. I'm more of a sandwich maker, boot lacer or carny than a designer. I'd just as soon create a face tattoo or write a eulogy for a stranger than design an album cover, but that's not suggestive of my branding. Additionally, I'd also rather fuck a body than jerk off to a bright screen. Although I do understand the economy of pornography, I just prefer a brain and a pulse. The same can be said for fads and I don't intend to marry myself to any.

TB: I appreciate your "selectiveness" as far as seeing your art on records. It seems to be a rare trait. Have you turned down some good paying gigs on principle? Often I see some remarkable artwork on a record (usually done by an artist for a band he's in or friends with locally), and then six months or so later there's a half dozen seven inches out with that artist's stuff, and another half dozen a month after that and it starts getting really tired to look at. They're almost ruining their own work. I guess people gotta eat and it must be cool to get paid for your art, but I see your side of it clearly as well. I also don't understand how a band can trust an artist they don't even know (or vice versa) to present their vision for them. It doesn't seem to make for a good collaborative effort/aesthetic. Is selectivity what separates pros from "lego builders"? Can you be scrupulous and professional or "successful" to some degree? Are you making an effort to not be the "garage-psych art guy"?
WK: You know I guess I was just never that eager to get ahead when opportunities started coming around. I was eager to get involved. That's something that has existed from a young age in a lot of us I presume and fortunately for me has affixed itself to the remaining naivety that I still possess. I don't want to put my finger in every fucking pie. I'd just get sick of pie and people would ask me to stop putting my dirty digits in their sweets. I've always promoted the idea that younger or newer bands should look inward or closely near their circle and try and champion and document their own scene with their own aesthetic decisions. That's when things are the most exciting, when you are down in the trenches. So yeah, I've been selective but not always high upon some lofty principles. Often times I just don't give a shit about the music, the obvious posturing and glaringly obvious void of self-identity. If I were to be a professional, it's as though I would have to lobotomize myself and just crank the shit out sweatshop style. I personally can't function that way. If you lived in San Francisco, you'd catch me in the papers with a headline about doing something cuckoo. Scruples splattered on the ground.

TB: I'd like to talk about this quote I pulled from your Juxtapoz interview: "illuminating the perversion of our obsession with nostalgia", which was in reference to some of the symbols/ephemera that appear in your work. Can you expand on/explain this a little more? I also notice when you borrow images from pop culture past, you tend to warp them a bit - like the Cincinnati Reds baseball head mascot I've seen you use before - it's often not an exact replica of the original, but a sort of weird version of it...
WK: We are living in a time in which our generation is becoming increasingly more concerned with hoarding and collecting the past. In fact I just talked with some buds today at a record store about how our generation might be the first to really like and collect our parents' music, fashion, etc. Generations of the past almost always railed against their parents' culture. Now we are dressing up in their duds, listening to their radio hits and generally being nostalgic for a time we never experienced. Its not exceptional in the latter part of that statement, but in the former I think itís interesting that our proximity to the past that we collect and obsess over is telescoping. I think that is entirely parallel to the telescoping of technology and its proximity to the body and the mind. With smartphones and Tumblr and Twitter and all that bullshit, itís just a rapid fire simulacra - a virtual collecting and pining for things that once would have taken up true physical space. Now we don't have to dust off our books, photographs, and postcards. We can just pick and pluck from these digital sources and create a pastiche that is intended to illuminate who we want to be. Therein lies the perversion. Its exploitative and more pornographic than pornography. And itís all drawing closer to the body. Faces illuminated by digital devices in our hands will soon turn to devices implanted under our skin, in our brains. I think everyone has to personally make choices concerning how far or deep we will allow these technologies to go into us. That starts with both the content and the medium of contact. I truly believe that in the future nostalgia will become extinct and will instead be replaced by some serious techno-metaphysical changes to the mind, allowing us to live with little distinction between the organic and virtual. Obviously this is lifted from McLuhan, Baudrillard, Postman, Plato and a shit ton of other indisputable smart cookies, but it is so applicable even in the way we can think about guitars and melodies, vintage obsession, and the blind acceptance that we are truly losing our modernity and consequently dulling our senses, our empathy, and our relationship to the flesh. Do I think my art is effective in illuminating this? Probably not as much as I wish. In fact it's probably looked at as merely more of the same, more stroking of the cat. This shit makes me want to scream a primal scream to indicate my humanity. Hey, but we're just talking about some art. I'm no Luddite but maybe I should start bombing galleries or booby trapping my work. Bring the drones home!

TB: Do you think this obsession with nostalgia stems from people thinking there's lack of anything interesting and modern, or at least the inability of many people to know where to find such things today? Is there perhaps a feeling that latching onto the "better days" of the past makes us feel a little more human as we are technologically becoming less and less so? Throw a sepia filter and some faux aging on that photo and it looks just like things did way back when humanity had a chance...
WK: Hasn't it been the modernists in all the various niche groups rebelling against the slick postmodern slimebuckets for years? Of course the cheap thrill, the gag, the fad, the gimmick is going to suck us into the enjoyable and convenient comfort of believing that we are truly so beyond the pale that we need the fake sepia bullshit to act as a psychic nutritional supplement to the unattainable reality of gnawing on a carrot. Its the age old adage that convenience gained is substance lost. We most certainly have lost collective substance. I don't want to convey that I believe that gripping onto these tactile artifacts or products of culture are the penultimate and most important elements of civilization because they certainly aren't. I don't promote hoarding or bourgeoisie collecting but I do believe that we have moved so far into the micro meta that we have a hard time discerning authenticity and its inherent value to humanity within populated spheres of culture.
In a 1970 Artforum interview, Minimalist painter Jo Baer described Aristotleís analysis of the three types of artists Ė those that imitate the past, present, or future. Of Aristole's beliefs, Baer said that ďpast seeking, the preterit mode, sustains the conservative heart, which longs for that idealized childhood where authorities were strong, rules were clear and properties were unequivocally possessed." Asserting a radical agenda for the advancement of the Conceptualists in the 1970ís, Baer denied credit to artists working with materials and concepts of the past, but in the 2000ís and beyond a paradigm shift validates pop culture revisionists Ė those who seek to rework significant elements of the past. In my work I'm usually trying to redact or reclaim elements of the past through abstraction or attempting to showcase them out of an expected context.

TB: How do you decide on the images to use? Just gut instinct? Are you picking things that are meaningful to you or images that you think will have more impact on your audience regardless of personal feelings?
WK:The symbols, insignias, mascots, and trademarked logos are elements that I appreciated and confronted openly as a child and now can use authentically to my benefit as recontextualized neo-hieroglyphs in my arcane and insular world. I fucking love the Big Red Machine and the stories that my father would regale me with as if he truly were a compatriot of Pete Rose and Johnny Bench. There exists no irreverence in my interest in the icons themselves, but I often times wish to subvert their original intent. Yes, interpolation exists in my expressed meaning but there is certainly no insincerity being expressed. This is my very point of contention. People are so gripped with what is historically defined and the sacrament involved in symbols and characters that the re-examination and possible "misuse" is often dumbfounding or at least queer and dubious at base. Most people would rather subscribe to a simplified category, collectively define and compartmentalize imagery into sacred and universal truths. That simple-mindedness leaves no room for personal filtering and individualistic manipulation, no room for evolution or any paradigm shift. So is Mr. Red really Mr. Red when you are looking at him vectorized digitally and then subsequently machine embroidered onto a cap? I just ain't so sure about that. I have to fuck with my relationship to these types of character otherwise I should simply stick to dictionary examples of history and express no claim to the imagery as is paired so personally to my own cognitive reality and remembrance. I mean, is '77 punk a folk form now? Is it a widely conceived permanent fixture of rebellion? I think it's kinda cornball, honestly. Suck my punk. Tear it down like the statues of Lenin.
History provides a wealth of stimulating content to draw from. Toys, shows, music, characters, language, technology and generic and obscure media and ephemera of the past can be useful personal, creative and expressive tools and media for individuals. They can also be molested for use as propaganda promoting consumptive lifestyles of simulated and retroized monoculturalism. I am fascinated by the way that time can be spanned or boundaries ignored while conceiving history in such a way that nostalgia is reshaped in order to effectively decry its own (dis)function as a portal to sentimental pleasure-seeking and escapism. The past can be alternately realized in the present in a manner that illuminates the way in which we interface with our world. We can still use the past and be mindful in the now if we don't overindulge in our sentimental tripping and gluttonous devouring of intoxicating emotions. Nostalgic fare is effective when contorted for use as a mirror to reflect our contemporary landscape. Time rewards us with its output and punishes us with its pitfalls. We shouldn't give up our humanity and presence to the demands of nostalgic fetishism and retro-gazing, nor should we deny our emotions that are conjured from interpreting historical events. I am idealistic and believe we can, and some often do, make use of the past as a vehicle for good in the present. I am also fully wary of the creeping of apathy, so naturally the rungs of my ladder are always snapping as I'm peaking, but I continue the struggle to climb in order to avoid the snapping dogs below. I have to inspire positivity with the purging of my hate. That's why I refer to what I do as a loser's sport. Maybe I am unknowingly just a peddler of the very misuse that I loathe - my intent usurped by internet babies, quick clicking their way through cheap cultural downloads and constructing their identities through virtual approximations. I may one day be lined up with the rest of the dissenters and executed by the Tumblr Youth Brigade while the Google Punks goosestep off into their dystopian pixelscape, whistling Muzak'n'roll anthems through their Pandora speaker lips and peering out through their faux-Holgavision Ray-Bans.

TB: I'm interested in the "longing for childhood" aspect, personally. I often feel I spend a good part of my free time based in activities that are helping me hang on to whatever parts of my childhood I still can. I don't know why, maybe I'm scared of getting old. I'm just drawn to things, like your art, and it sometimes pains me to think about the "whys" of it too much, but I think we have to in order to understand and sort things out for ourselves a bit better. There's really no question here I guess, I just wanted to answer you in a way. There's not much more to say about this one without going a little too far into the rabbit hole I think. I did want to ask you about comic books though. Have you ever done any or been involved with them much? Do you follow modern comics at all?
WK: I was a big Swamp Thing and Batman fan back in the 80's and 90's and then there was a tremendous gap where I just felt like I needed to grow up. I guess it was just that typical teenage precocious attitude toward giving up on your toys and comic books and becoming "adult" or whatever you think you should be getting into. I made a trade for skateboarding and music and eventually those things ended up getting me right back into art and comics. I was real keen on Paper Rodeo and that whole bag of fruits when that was around. I would also often drive up to Chicago in my early twenties to hit up Quimby's to score some of the freak shit coming out around the mid 00's. Those Kramer's Ergot compilations were really good but I kind of dropped off after the first few. I did draw some comics for a while, but realized that it wasn't really my most expressive medium. I've been toying with the idea of a kidís book for quite a while now. I started working on a collaboration with a writer but that ended up falling through. The good thing about that flop is that I realized that I should probably just write the damn thing because I know that I have some good vibes I want to put out there for the little buds. I am always open to recommendations, but I am a persnickety fellow.

TB: A kids book sounds like a great idea for you. One thing I forgot to ask you about earlier was about the series of political posters you mentioned. Sounds like a very interesting project for these times. Will it be for a gallery show or sort of a guerilla-type thing around the Bay? Want to tell us a bit more about the ideas/ideals?
WK: Mike and I've just been riffin' on some ideas way outside galleries. We're concocting ideas involving actions and propaganda. Positive hate, the REAL San Francisco big time turn around, choose your own reality and confront it head on-type shit. This city's really gone to the big dollar babies, foodies, and technophiles, essentially driving out the magic and the good folk who've been here for decades. Itís a shame, so maybe its right to do some shaming. Itís like your good neighbors are getting trampled to death at a rock concert by a bunch of overeager, overzealous start-up creeps with more money to throw at designer beverages than even seems reasonable. But I want to kill Ďem with kindness if I can. Itís worth a try.

TB: So you just wrapped up 'They Just Stood There' with Tim Presley. How was the experience overall? What's in the future for you?
WK: The show was a really good way to purge this body of work and share it with people because it comes from an exceptionally autobiographical place. I kept telling people a good reason to have this show was to be able to see my friends play music in a more intimate setting - a major rarity these days. Basement shows just don't really exist here and some of my buds can't safely play the smaller shows anymore, so it was nice to see Mike open the show with an amazing 45 minute acoustic set of solo songs that he's prepping for a future record and then for the closer, to see Burnt Ones squelch in a sweaty box and for Ty to close things out with a super rare acoustic performance. Tim's work provided a really good balance to the pieces I had up and I'm glad to have worked with him outside of the rec/poster art realm.
As far as what's next, I am working on an album for my band Plum Clods (which includes Mark Tester of Burnt Ones and soon to include Mike Donovan on the skins). We've been recording this beast for the past nine months or more and are simultaneously working on videos with some good friends. Keep your eyes peeled for a claymation Plum Clods vid that Dusty (Mushrooom Necklace) is painstakingly grueling over in a labor of love. So, I really want to get this record done and out into some paws in 2013. I also want to chug away at some of those new posters I was mentioning earlier, along with some prospects for some future art shows.
After that? I think a major move is coming up. My eyes have been aimed at the North Carolina mountains, away from cities and all the riffraff. Only time will tell I suppose. Wish me luck.


William on the web at Mushroom Necklace.

Images borrowed from above site.

Interview by (RK), 2012-13.

To read other TB interviews, go here.