“I work as much as fifty to sixty hours at a stretch," Kusama wrote in a 1961 article of her entrancing, utterly consuming creative process. "I gradually feel myself under the spell of the accumulation and repetition in my nets which expand beyond myself, and over the limited space of canvas, covering the floor, desks and everywhere.”

“I felt like I needed to crawl under my blankets.And I did for about an hour. My self-pity always had a time limit because I usually got annoyed with myself.”

“I am still a consumer; the consumer world was the world I emerged into, whose air I breathed for a very long time, and its assumptions still dominate my psyche—but maybe a little less each year....There are times when I can feel the spell breaking in my mind….There are times when I can almost feel myself simply being.”

“I was having the surreal experience of having myself show myself around my office and bullpen.” “Oh! My desk. I could’ve sat at my desk. I could’ve sat at your desk.” “No.” “It’s a vid set.” “Even then, no.”

“From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines.”

“Fancy clipped a scrap of newsprint to her canvas and wrote, I don't have friends.Ilan's hand covered hers briefly as he plucked the charcoal from her hand and wrote beneath her words, you have me.”