​​I arrived at Schloss Wiepersdorf under the impression that the residency offered an open exploration of Jewish
and Nazi family histories and trans-generational trauma. Only later did I realize that the program was structured
around pairing Jewish and German artists to collaborate on works rooted in their respective biographies. As
someone who was neither, I felt profoundly out of place. My identity was oddly assumed, and no one thought to
ask me who—or what—I was. This all came to light publicly during a group discussion: a nightmarish situation
that was unsupported and, strangely, brushed aside.

To add to the anxiety of the situation, reporters were scheduled to interview us the next day about our
backgrounds. Instead of trying to conjure some reasonable explanation for myself, I decided to sidestep their
questions by assuming a different role. I staged myself as a Therapy Dog-for-hire. I acted to soothe both the room
and myself while slipping beyond the reach of inquiry—using absurdity to answer absurdity.

Fitted with six additional prosthetic breasts (made under previous consultation with Lena Böckmann) and an
official vest, I embodied the role of a therapy dog for traumatized individuals. For those who could not find
comfort in a canine but still sought the intimacy and support such an animal provides, I became a part-human,
part-therapy-dog companion. Through gestures of leaning, listening, circling, nudging, and stillness, I offered
presence, comfort, and attention.

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