“I Want to Be Disgusting”: Alex Tatarsky and Crackhead Barney on Karens, Clowns, and CEOs

Alex Tatarsky doesn’t identify as a performance artist—just call them a clown. And their trademark style of absurdist theater (informed by the circus, as well as by their poetry research) takes to that category well, mixing manic monologues with slapstick humor and audience torture, like in solo shows Americana Psychobabble, Dirt Trip, and MATERIAL, their recent improv project at the Whitney Biennial. Now, at Chemistry Creative, Under the Radar’s Under Construction has invited Tatarsky to unravel night after night for ten days straight in Nothing Doing. For Tatarsky, clowning is a fantasy perfectly suited to both escaping and questioning our equally bizarre reality. “It’s disgusting being yourself,” they said to their frenemy and fellow provocateur Crackhead Barney, someone who knows a thing or two about the unhinged, when they went on the record to talk getting meta, getting milked, and humiliating yourself for all to see.

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CRACKHEAD BARNEY: Okay, we’re going to start our interview.

ALEX TATARSKY: I’m really impressed that you have these multiple phones, Barney. You’re such a business woman.

BARNEY: Because I don’t know who the fuck I’m going to run down on in the streets. I have two phones all the time. Okay, Alex, nice to meet you again and again and again. I heard you hate my guts, so why the fuck are we doing this interview today?

TATARSKY: I like to torture myself by putting myself in these masochistic situations, being abused and berated by one of the country’s top comedic minds. I like this proximity to greatness. It humbles me. It keeps me grounded.

BARNEY: Alex wants me to suck her pussy. It’s not going to happen. You’re going to have to join my 1,000 man gang-bang at Center for Performance Research. I’m going to do a Lily Phillips. 

TATARSKY: So you’re going to be researching your hole in relation to—

BARNEY: Yes, holes.

TATARSKY: Holes are so trendy. Have you noticed this?

BARNEY: I know holes. But this is not about me, this is about you. Alex, so you’re a performance artist in the city, correct?

TATARSKY: Well, I identify as a clown, but you insist on saying performance artist.

BARNEY: So you want to be called a clown?

TATARSKY: I feel more identified with that. 

BARNEY: Why do you say clown and not performance artist?

TATARSKY: I don’t want to insult all my friends in this magazine, but performance art seems to me to come out of a visual art tradition and I come from the circus. I come from roving bands of performers wearing masks in the street. It’s just a different tradition.

BARNEY: Are you from New York City or from Louisiana? This sounds very Louisiana.

TATARSKY: No, I grew up walking back and forth between Tompkins Square Park and Washington Square Park. So my influences are just, like, park performers.

BARNEY: So you’re a crackhead.

TATARSKY: Proud.

BARNEY: You’re a true Jewish white crackhead?

TATARSKY: And that’s important. I feel like crackheads are not usually associated with the Jewish American community.

BARNEY: Okay, so you’re saying that you’re trying to be a dirty white bitch?

TATARSKY: That is what I’m saying, yes. Thank you.

BARNEY: Do you feel like the contemporary Marina Abramovic? 

TATARSKY: No, I really don’t identify with that because she was just sitting there and that’s not what I’m interested in.

BARNEY: Say you’re a badder bitch than Marina Abramovic.

TATARSKY: You’re putting me in an impossible situation, Barney.

BARNEY: The last time I saw Marina Abramovic, she told me to put on clothes and she told me I was naked.

TATARSKY: She did?

BARNEY: I asked her, “How can I be as famous as you?” She was like, “If you came to my performance arts school, I would tell you to go home.” 

TATARSKY: Rude.

BARNEY: Wait, you’re a Russian Jew like Marina Abramovic, right? Why don’t you want to be compared to her? Because you want to be a clown?

TATARSKY: Yeah.

BARNEY: I see you use makeup in your performance, you use pasties, you use oversized clothes. You’re giving me the Marx brothers, or the Three Stooges.

TATARSKY: Thank you. That feels like a better comparison. I mean, I appreciate the titties as an important prop, and I feel excited to be in conversation with you around that lineage. And smearing stuff all over your face. If I smear things all over myself, it allows me to be more honest.

BARNEY: Are you doing blackface?

TATARSKY: No. I’m very interested in whiteface.

BARNEY: What color is the shit that you’re smearing on your face?

TATARSKY: I have two kinds of whiteface that I like. One is called white and the other one is called super white.

BARNEY: Are you a Karen?

TATARSKY: Sometimes I like to perform that on stage to kind of deconstruct violent white femininity. 

BARNEY: Talk to us about violent white femininity. What does that mean? 

TATARSKY: I’m interested in playing with the victim narrative, and this performance of victimhood that I feel is quite violent and allows many people in positions of power to evade all responsibilities. So it’s fun to kind of mock that dynamic where if you perpetually claim to be the victim, you get away with a lot of violent shit.

BARNEY: In your everyday life, do you perpetuate white woman violence?

TATARSKY: I try to fight against the ingrained white supremacy inside me.

BARNEY: Other than slapping me today at Danspace, was there any act that you can think of recently that you were like, “Okay, this is white woman violence, I need to stop myself”?

TATARSKY: I’m sure, but I’ve probably repressed it because I have so much shame I’m not even letting myself acknowledge it.

BARNEY: Do you feel embarrassed to be a white woman?

TATARSKY: For sure. Being a white woman is very embarrassing.

BARNEY: I was talking at the dinner table before about how DEI programs, affirmative action, go to white women even though they’re privileged, but they’re considered a minority. You know you’re not a fucking victim, so why are you acting like one? Is that the violence you’re talking about?

TATARSKY: Well, it’s kind of when you’re like, “I hate the New York Times except when they write about me.”

BARNEY: Like me, okay.

TATARSKY: We all like to hold on to our tiny kingdoms and I think we have to be honest about to what extent you are willing to engage in creating a different world where you don’t have the things you have access to.

BARNEY: Do you think your white body is taking up too much space in the performance art world? 

TATARSKY: I’m getting a bit sick of myself, but I hope other people aren’t sick of me yet because I need to sell tickets because that’s how I make my living.

BARNEY: Okay, talk to us about this Under the Radar Festival you’re headlining. What’s that about? 

TATARSKY: Almost every day in January I’m going to be making a new show in front of you. So January 8th through 18th in a strange warehouse in East Williamsburg, I’m going to be clowning on full display, humiliating myself night after night for the entertainment of the people, because I’m obsessed with audiences.

BARNEY: So you’re an attention whore?

TATARSKY: I want to be loved really badly and I’m trying to be honest about that.

BARNEY: Are you an only child?

TATARSKY: No, I have a little brother. 

BARNEY: Does your family like your performance? They think you’re stupid? Because my family thinks I’m stupid.

TATARSKY: They try to be supportive, but I think they do wish I was doing something else.

BARNEY: Really? That’s shocking coming from Jewish parents. Jewish parents are usually very supportive.

TATARSKY: They love self-expression, but of course they wish I just had a real job. Does your family come to see your work?

BARNEY: No, I invite them but they don’t want to see it. They’re ashamed. They’re like, “What the fuck are you doing?” They’re coming around now because after my Vice documentary they were like, “Oh, people actually like you?” They were shocked. 

TATARSKY: Yeah, sometimes these legitimate outlets are the only way to prove to your family.

BARNEY: I come from an African background, though.

TATARSKY: Moms have a hard time seeing their daughters with titties out in public.

BARNEY: I really like my titties being out. Are your titties huge?

TATARSKY: My titties are very small.

BARNEY: I thought you had big titties. 

TATARSKY: Do people think of me as a big titty person?

BARNEY: When I saw you today I was like, “Alex has really big tits.” 

TATARSKY: No, I have a big ass and small boobs. That’s kind of my thing.

BARNEY: But you cover up. Not on stage, but now you’re covered.

TATARSKY: It’s true. I’m very modest in real life.

BARNEY: Can I touch your breasts?

TATARSKY: If you want to. It’s not that exciting.

BARNEY: Okay, like a B-cup. Do you want to touch my tits?

TATARSKY: May I? They’re beautiful.

BARNEY: Yeah, I know. We should milk each other.

TATARSKY: We should.

BARNEY: Shut up, I don’t want to like you. You know I don’t.

TATARSKY: I get that feeling and I try to make peace with it.

BARNEY: Okay, so we hate each other.

TATARSKY: No, you’ve been an inspiration forever. I don’t want to lay it on too thick, but I have memories of you just pissing all over floors, jumping in and out of trash bags, and screaming. And I’m just a ripoff of you, basically, but I can’t piss as well, I can’t scream as well—

BARNEY: I told you you’re a Black girl. You’re blacker than some of these Black girls. Anyways, I heard through the grapevine that Nile Harris and Malcolm-x Betts and Arien Wilkerson are all fighting. What do you think about Black faggots fighting?

TATARSKY: You want to air this dirty laundry out in an interview? Well, I happen to really love all those people that you just mentioned.

BARNEY: And you’re a white woman, so it’s very important to this landscape to comment on Black faggotry.

TATARSKY: Right, as the authority, I would like to say, I can’t wait to see how their clash of values, aesthetics, politics, and creative impulses continues to be generative for the whole community. I adore them all.

BARNEY: We were just at dinner at the nasty Ukrainian restaurant, and I said that the reason Black people fight within the art landscape, it’s a crabs in the bucket mentality. There’s so little to go around so they’re like, “That’s mine, that’s mine.” But what I see with white artists, they’re more like, “Oh, that’s great Alex. That’s great Jacob. That’s great Catherine.” But I feel like you and Nile, you kiss ass really well. You guys know how to politicize. I’m not good at kissing ass.

TATARSKY: But you’re a major celebrity and we’re just two people who occasionally get grants.

BARNEY: That’s huge, something I cannot do. I see you guys as the cream of the crop.

TATARSKY: It’s true that it is a skill to convince people with a certain kind of money.

BARNEY: Okay, the UTR Festival. Where is it? 

TATARSKY: It’s a place called Chemistry Creative. It’s $25, and if you’re really broke, you could email me.

BARNEY: What can we look forward to when we watch it?

TATARSKY: You can look forward to watching a person lose their mind in real time. You can see a clown struggling against the conditions of reality. I really want everything to unravel, unravel, unravel. That’s my goal for this.

BARNEY: What was the inspiration for this UTR Festival?

TATARSKY: It’s called Nothing Doing. The inspiration for this was getting invited to make a thing and then—

BARNEY: So you got invited, you didn’t even apply?

TATARSKY: Exactly, and then—

BARNEY: And you’re telling me you don’t have any white woman privilege?

TATARSKY: This ecosystem is bizarre. It’s not right.

BARNEY: So the UnitedHealthcare guy that shot up that CEO, is he coming?

TATARSKY: Do you have any contacts to him? I feel like he would listen to you.

BARNEY: Why does everybody compare me to him? You are like the second person that’s compared me to him.

TATARSKY: That’s a compliment. Murder them with your art, Barney. I mean, talk about performance art!

BARNEY: Yeah, it was a performance. It was like when you perform, and you’re waiting for that grand moment. He was like, pop, pop.

TATARSKY: People in this country got inspired for the first time in a long time. CEOs should be scared.

BARNEY: They have a CEO hotline, so if you’re a CEO and you feel like your life is being threatened, you can call in, which is bullshit because when workers get abused, they just tell you to fucking take it. When you’re a CEO, your abuse matters. The Amazon workers are striking, and the NYPD is arresting people. This is between the workers and the company, mind your own fucking business.

TATARSKY: The only thing that feels better about this moment is just that it’s so bold-faced right now. Nobody’s even pretending anymore. That’s what’s kind of interesting.

BARNEY: No one gives a goddamn, and no one wants to be happy. People are done with being happy and respectability politics. 

TATARSKY: We’re done with being happy.

BARNEY: What do you think about people saying you’re a Karen? 

TATARSKY: Are people going around saying I’m a Karen?

BARNEY: Yes, bitch, they said you’re a fucking Karen. And your hair looks a little Karen.

TATARSKY: It’s an homage. I think she’s been much maligned and it’s time to restore her reputation. 

BARNEY: Are you a Jewish American Princess?

TATARSKY: I always wanted to be more of a JAP, but I could never afford a matching Juicy. They need a lot of accoutrement. To be a JAP, you need to have your nails done and your hair done. I’m just a little bit too gross and dirty.

BARNEY: It takes a lot of effort. I bought a wig kit and it’s still in the package. I just put my wig on. I’m like, “It’s a hat, it’s not my hair.”

TATARSKY: You really wear a wig well.

BARNEY: What do you mean by that?

TATARSKY: Well, it’s like an avant garde approach to wig wearing.

BARNEY: Yes. Dude, it’s a fucking hat. I just glue the front and then the rest of it is falling off. It’s a turban.

TATARSKY: I’m sorry that I want to make this about you, but your relationship to masks is also really exciting to me.

BARNEY: Oh yeah, this is not my real face. The mask in the bag is my real face. It’s not that I don’t like my real face, but I don’t like reality so you have to escape it. When you’re talking about not being human and you want to be moss, I totally get it. I don’t want to be human. That’s why I don’t like people saying my real name to me. It’s so triggering.

TATARSKY: Yeah.

BARNEY: If you really want to offend me, say my government name and try to have a real conversation. I’m done. I cannot have a real conversation. I find you and Nile so brave for choosing your government names.

TATARSKY: It’s disgusting. I hate it. I like how you get both our names wrong because you always say “Niles” and “Alex Tartarsky,” which is really nice.

BARNEY: I just don’t like names. Names scare me. That’s very scary just to be like, “My name is this,” and then people talk to you. I don’t want anyone talking to me.

TATARSKY: It’s important to create a fantasy to escape reality. It’s disgusting being yourself. I hate when people tell you to be yourself. That’s what offends me.

BARNEY: I hate when people tell me to talk about myself. Get the fuck away from me.

TATARSKY: How do you think I feel right now?

BARNEY: Initially, I thought you were ignoring my emails and phone calls because you took a long time to answer me. I thought you didn’t want me to interview you.

TATARSKY: I hate emails and phone calls and DMs.

BARNEY: So you don’t doom scroll?

TATARSKY: Sometimes I do and I want to die, so I try to avoid it as much as I possibly can.

BARNEY: Do you have a timer? Can you teach me? Because I’m always on the internet.

TATARSKY: I delete all the apps from my phone so I can’t do anything for a few days, and then I get re-addicted. So probably I was in a cold turkey phase when you were trying to reach out to me. It lasts three days max and then I’m back on there, but it’s a glorious three days because I’m in the world of people.

BARNEY: I need that. I have terrible anxiety. I went to therapy the other day.

TATARSKY: How did it go?

BARNEY: I like therapists that yell at me.

TATARSKY: Is that what happened?

BARNEY: No, but I had a big fat Black man yell at me once and that was the best therapy I ever had. He was like, “You need to change. You’re the problem.” I like that. What type of therapy do you like?

TATARSKY: I go to the kind of therapy where they do not say a word. They just look at you for 45 minutes, you try to come up with something to say, and then you leave. 

BARNEY: Nah, I want to be yelled at and I want homework. It’s a trauma response.

TATARSKY: You’re repeating your trauma.

BARNEY: Okay, do you want to be my friend? I hate you, but that’s my next question.

TATARSKY: I would be honored to be your friend. If you want to keep hating me, we could be frenemies. 

BARNEY: Okay. Did you get a photo shoot with this interview? Because Interview mag gave me a photo shoot when I did my interview.

TATARSKY: I know, because yours is probably more important than mine. They’re probably going to make me go dig through my phone and send them a selfie.

BARNEY: Good, you didn’t get a photo shoot. Did you get any clothes? Because I think Nile, he had a $600 Adidas on—

TATARSKY: Why are you rubbing all this in my face?

BARNEY: Because I have to. 

TATARSKY: Maybe I’ll do my own photo shoot. 

BARNEY: Do you ever suffer from imposter syndrome about your art?

TATARSKY: Yes, I pretty much always feel not right about my art. What about you?

BARNEY: Oh yeah, imposter. Don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

TATARSKY: It’s in the void all the time. Honestly, if I met somebody who was like, “I feel good about my work,” I wouldn’t even trust them.

BARNEY: Yeah. I always say, “It’s not me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Because I’m a meme, I’m not a person. Do you have your period? I have mine.

TATARSKY: I just got over mine.

BARNEY: How was it?

TATARSKY: It was horrible. I can’t deal with it. Every time the blood starts pouring out of me I’m very confused. I just bleed everywhere, like I can’t be bothered.

BARNEY: Oh, nice, so you free bleed?

TATARSKY: I stain people’s fancy couches. I ruin all my underwear.

BARNEY: I did in an Uber and he made me wipe it up.

TATARSKY: Oh, no. I have to try that one. When I’m on my period, I actively want to kill myself. It’s a very intense few days. But you know, the word lunacy is related to luna, like the moon. It all used to be timed, bleeding at the same time, going crazy with the moon.

BARNEY: Hysteria is like uterus.

TATARSKY: Exactly. It’s our womb madness.

BARNEY: That’s where the performance comes from. If I didn’t have that crazy period pain, I wouldn’t probably have this performance art.

TATARSKY: That’s true.

BARNEY: My uterus is demonic. I have endometriosis. I need meds. I’m really a crackhead. I need medication. Do you think art is dead?

TATARSKY: Yes.

BARNEY: Why? 

TATARSKY: I don’t think there’s clear boundaries anymore around what it is, and I don’t feel like defending the category of art as a thing that is separate from other things. The category has collapsed.

BARNEY: When did you start performing?

TATARSKY: When I was three years old, I did my first work, which was an opera about then-Mayor Dinkins. That was 1993. I was obsessed with Mayor Dinkins. And I was also obsessed with Pippi Longstocking, so it was like a Mayor Dinkins/Pippi Longstocking mashup.

BARNEY: And has it evolved, your performance, ever since then?

TATARSKY: No, it’s basically exactly the same. That’s what you’re going to see at Under The Radar, a Mayor Dinkins/Pippi Longstocking operatic homage.

BARNEY: So you will do blackface.

TATARSKY: Can I say it’s going to be a whiteface Mayor Dinkins? 

BARNEY: Okay, makes sense. Where do you see yourself 10 years from now in clowning?

TATARSKY: I hope that I am making enough money to buy really nice groceries. I love food.

BARNEY: You don’t look it, you’re very skinny.

TATARSKY: My favorite activity is eating, drinking, and dancing. So I hope I’m just able to live well and I don’t get too scared to stop. I hope I never get scared, please god. 

BARNEY: Do you want kids?

TATARSKY: I can’t decide. Are you going to have them?

BARNEY: I’m not going to be here forever, and I need another set of terrorists.

TATARSKY: It’s important actually that people like you have kids to send them out into the world. 

BARNEY: The Trump election totally changed my mind. They’re multiplying.

TATARSKY: They can’t have family and then the rest of us die off. We need to multiply too.

BARNEY: Yeah, we’re like, “Oh, the earth, climate change.” Fuck climate change, just have kids and they’ll figure it out. Should I call you Mr. or Mrs. or Bitch Tatarsky?

TATARSKY: I guess Bitch Tatarsky sounds kind of cool.

BARNEY: So are you a they/them bitch?

TATARSKY: I’m a he/she/they/confused. I’m very confused.

BARNEY: Do you like anal sex?

TATARSKY: Only occasionally.

BARNEY: The dick all the way inside?

TATARSKY: That can be a bit much.

BARNEY: I can’t get dick in my butt. Ew, it hurts. My stomach… I have stomach problems. Do you have an OnlyFans?

TATARSKY: I don’t.

BARNEY: I have a Patreon, but I don’t have OnlyFans. 

TATARSKY: I don’t have a Patreon. I have a patron, my sugar daddy.

BARNEY: Oh, you’re so lucky. Maybe I’ll get one. Okay, I’ve already touched your titties. Does your pussy itch?

TATARSKY: Sometimes.

BARNEY: Does it itch right now?

TATARSKY: No.

BARNEY: Do you get sexually assaulted when you perform?

TATARSKY: I wouldn’t say sexually assaulted because I’m in a position of power when I’m performing, actually.

BARNEY: You know how I street perform? I’ve been getting sexually assaulted in the nigger Santa Claus costumes.

TATARSKY: People feel empowered to go after your Claus.

BARNEY: I don’t know what it is. My ass got touched in the Santa costume in Times Square. I was like, “Sit on my lap,” and I felt people touching my titties.

TATARSKY: What are people processing from your Santa Claus?

BARNEY: I don’t know, I look like a female and they want to touch me in that costume. I want to be disgusting, but you’re treating me like I’m a sex object.

TATARSKY: We can’t escape it. I try to be as disgusting as possible, and they still treat you like a sex object.

BARNEY: Have you ever heard John Berger say that when a man is funny, he is a comedian. He can be seen as serious and funny. But when a woman is a comedian, she’s just a joke. 

TATARSKY: John Berger said that? I think that’s liberating honestly. I am happy to be a joke. Recently I have seen images of me from performances where my breasts are out circulating on all kinds of websites. And I got to tell you Barney, the comments are amazing, because it’s all these dudes who are obsessed with nudity in performance art, and they watch so much of it that they’re actually performance art experts more than I am.

BARNEY: Do they berate you too?

TATARSKY: Yeah, they have all kinds of criticisms, but actually of the performance, not even of the titties.

BARNEY: Okay, thank you so much Tartarsky, this was amazing. Do you want to scratch my pussy?

TATARSKY: We’ll turn off the recording for that.

BARNEY: All right.