For today's installment of the The Youth Issue, we bring you an interview with artistic wunderkind, Terence Koh.

Since his first solo show in 2003 (under his unofficially retired moniker, asianpunkboy) Koh's gone on to become one of the art world's rising stars. Bathed in as much melancholy as it is quiet hope, Koh's sculpture, photography, publishing and performances blur the lines between punk, porn and posterity. Of course, for those who know Koh, this should come as no surprise: he's a man whose own life remains indistinguishable from his art. In this week's New York Magazine, future The Youth Issue subject, General Idea founder, AA Bronson, says: I don’t think of Terence making individual pieces... It’s one complex piece. An almost fictional autobiography, one extended work."

The reporter goes on to shine a little light on some of Koh's alleged lies:

The details of that autobiography constantly shift to his advantage. Koh grew up in Canada, but press materials state that he was born in Beijing, and his birth date has advanced over the years from 1977 to 1979 to 1980. Bronson chuckles: “Terence lies about everything. I think he was born in Singapore. And my guess is he’s about 36.”

Gearing up for his first solo show at an American museum (a little place called The Whitney) and a concert at Deitch, the supposedly 29-year old artist took some time to answer some of our pressing questions. Rather than starting with his childhood, editor Andrew Belonsky took more of a - shall we say - "morbid" approach.

See what we mean, after the jump.

Andrew Belonsky: How do you want to die: in a blaze of glory or quietly in a corner?

Terence Koh: I would like to die alone by a Canadian lake. I believe in suicide. A lake surrounded by white birch trees. I [will] wear a custom white kimono whose surface was made of flecks of birch bark. I will walk into the lake and drown myself. I will need no stone to pull me down: the weight of my breath is enough to keep me down under.

AB: Speaking of the dead, during a 2004 interview with artnet, you were asked which artists were your greatest influences, to which you replied: "I very much cherish the spirit of the dead artist." Why? Is death a certain accomplishment or are you simply not intrigued by the living?

TK: I don't much like the living. That is why I am co-producing Bruce La Bruce's new movie, which is a gay zombie porno. I am very excited by that, as its all zombies attacking the living and fucking. Production starts next summer and as co-producer I get to fluff the dead zombies if they need be. My ultimate sexual fantasy is to have sex with a zombie before he devours me. I also cherish the fact [that] as a movie producer I get to realize another dream of riding in a white limo to the film set like a pimp.

AB: Your work addresses both personal experience and universal human emotions. Is it easy for you to get lost in the universal aspect of your work? Do you wish to disappear or do you like to stay front and center?

TK: I want to be the mirror to our entire universe.

AB: As a young artist, do you find your youth to be something of an advantage or a hindrance? I can imagine some older, stodgy art critic writing you off for your youth.

TK: Always. Older stodgy critics get mad anyways cause they can't fuck me

AB: Of course, older artists - primarily queer - have been quick to embrace you and your work. It seems to me that there's a generational bridge in the queer art world that doesn't exist in the "non-artistic" social scene, a sad fact, indeed. How do you think this bridge can be built?

TK: I don't believe in building this bridge. I don't believe in building bridges at all. What's the point when it's so much more romantic to just stare at the other side?

AB: A bit of an abstract question: in your opinion, what is youth?

TK: No idea.

AB: Okay. Now, your childhood: I know a French Canadian family adopted you. How was that? Did your race become an obstacle in anyway? It seems that much of the writing on you puts your race front and center, a focus you've objected to before: can humans ever look past race?

TK: I feel lucky to be have been raised in Canada. I was born in Beijing, but was put up for adoption around 5, I think. I was raised in Montreal until about 16 before we moved to Vancouver... Montreal is a European city, anyway. I consider myself European, before I consider myself Asian.

AB: Did you always want to be an artist?

TK: Artists are naturally born. My Canadian family remembered that I could do upside down drawings of the cats around the house at 7. I could just draw naturally upside down. My world since then has been an inverse of the eclipse of the moon.

AB: Why did you kill your alter ego: asianpunkboy? What happened to cause you to evolve your identity? Or, rather, reclaim your legal identity?

TK: asianpunkboy was being bad. He was naughty and being a total slut. That had to stop. Sluts are bad for business.

But asianpunkboy is coming back again. The new issue of asianpunkboy is out this year. The theme is “The New Heterosexuality” and it will only have contributions by straight artists. It will be released together with an exhibition at the same time at my gallery ASS.

It’s the new age of heterosexuality. I [have] always believed that heterosexuals are an inferior species and I wanted to give them a chance to proof themselves.

AB: Let's talk about your music: how does making music differ from making sculptures, 'zines, etc for you? Does it spring from a different artistic well? What can the listener expect?

TK: It all springs from the same bottomless pink pit. I don't even know what to expect when the singing comes out my mouth.

AB: Your work seems to consistently reference mortality. Are you obsessed with the concept of death: the extinction of youth?

TK: I am not that interested in the fascination by youth. I am just as interested in grandmas and pervert old uncles.

If my work references mortality, it’s only because I hope to die soon.

AB: What were some of your fears growing up? How have they changed?

TK: I don't reveal my fears. They are my most treasured pearls.

AB: Do you remember your first exposure to "art"? How did that feel? Like an awakening?

TK: When you first realize that you are awake, that is ART

AB: With regard to sexuality: when did you come out? Do you ever wish that the concept of sexuality would go the way of the do-do?

TK: I have always sympathized our dear, departed do-do: white, slow and beautiful. Like me. I envisioned that the do-do would gladly spend most of its time looking at its reflection in rain puddles. I hope that answers your second question.

AB: How does your past influence your present? What is the greatest lesson you've learned in your short time on earth?

TK: What is the present?

AB: Can you describe yourself in six words or less?

TK: Dodo, headless, albino, pea, moon, bowl.

(For more Koh love, check out his website. Also, if you find yourself in the hellpit known as New York City between January 19, 2007 and May 27, 2007, head over to The Whitney to check out his installation. You'll love it.)

Images:
Terence Koh, "29 seconds of attraction", 2004, inkjet photo on cotton paper, custom pink frame, each circle is hand painted with chocolate, in 29 parts, each 8 x 10 inches (total 10 inches x 19 feet, 2 inches)

Terence Koh, "Untitled (Medusa)", 2006: Mixed media sculpture, wood, paint, plaster, urinal, steel, porcelain, mirror, glue, bonding paste, ashes, oil, burnt wood, light, wiring and artists piss, 235 x 107 x 107 cm (partial view)

Terence Koh, "Cokehead", 2006, sculpture, plaster cast of Hermes the god covered in diamond dust and sugar and paint, enclosed in glass vitrine, 60 x 35 x 35 cm

Terence Koh, "Big White Cock", 2006, sculpture, white neon, wires, 132.1 x 121.9 cm