Plastic and cardboard boxes are stacked atop cheap gray corporate carpet, stuffed with seemingly random paraphernalia: a teddy bear, containers of JujyFruits, a picture of the Wicked Witch of the West. “These are just visual things that I like, that inspire me,” Waters says casually, looking around the clutter. He is wearing a black jacket and white button-down shirt, and he’s surrounded by a lot of veritable crap. And behind that doorway, I indeed find the pencil-mustachioed Waters. They don’t know of any, but suggest that I try the space across the hall.
I walk into the clinic and sheepishly ask if there’s an artist studio nearby. I’m here to interview the legendary auteur about his just-opened survey at the Baltimore Museum of Art (BMA), a couple of miles away. The red brick building in front of me is a “back and pain center” located across from a graveyard, on a nondescript residential street in northern Baltimore. My Lyft, I assume, has dropped me off at the wrong place. I am supposed to be at the art studio of legendary cult film director, writer, and artist John Waters.
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