But what sets Kirksghard apart from the millions of Americans who are also grappling with credit problems is the artist's conviction that she can transform her debt into works of art. In fact, she may have already succeeded in doing so.

Last week, Kirksghard unveiled her latest project at the Drawing Center in New York as part of a show devoted to art with a financial theme. The masterpiece? A 30 foot long by 14 foot tall flowchart which describes one of the artist's most recent credit card fiascos.

Entitled "2.8.99," the piece details a convoluted and costly transaction made by Kirksghard earlier this year in which she paid off one creditor, a collection agency, with another credit card.

In visual terms, the piece is as compelling as it is complicated. Using crisp black lines, large blocks of red space, and informational graphics in the style of an economics textbook, "2.8.99" is both formally fantastical and eerily factual.

The document describes how the artist must repay the amount of the original advance plus 17.5% in interest compounded daily. Despite its size and content, there is nothing sensational about its tone. Throughout the piece, Kirksghard refrains from "adding [her] two cents" and relies, instead, on a distant, matter-of-fact approach.

The flowchart is accompanied by a supplementary piece called "The Bottom Line", a large sheet of white paper framed by pencils attached to the gallery wall with rubber bands. A plaque to the right of "The Bottom Line" instructs visitors to calculate the artist's "Finance Charges Due to Periodic Rates" using rules lifted directly from the back of Kirksghard's last billing statement.

Kirksghard says she was inspired to make art out of her debts after she found herself caught in a bizarre catch 22 by a counseling program she had joined in the hopes of resolving her debt in a conventional manner.

"They told me," recalls a bemused Kirksghard, "that I couldn't transfer my debt to another card (because the program prohibits participants from obtaining new credit lines) but that if I became delinquent I could get a reduced rate -- in other words, I had to become a bad debtor in order to 'get good with God.' I just started laughing."

So far, Kirksghard has been laughing all the way to the bank, although she has yet to sell any of her pieces and is accruing almost $400 daily in additional debt. Howard Feitel Jr., the curator of the "Art of Finance" show at the Drawing Center, is optimistic about the future of Kirksghard's work. He believes that America's worsening debt problem will set the scene for avant-garde artists like Kirksghard.

"You hear all these awful stories about debt and collection agencies," Feitel says. "Bad debt is getting people into a lot of trouble and work like Kirksghard's questions many of the assumptions we have about credit being 'good' or 'bad'."

Kirksghard, for one, thinks having bad credit is "a magnetic state of being" in contemporary America and "beyond good and evil." Though her convictions may seem radical, the artist claims she is not simply avoiding the gravity of her situation. In fact, her current project, slated to debut in July of this year, is an effort to tackle the seriousness of her financial problems from a political perspective.

The work-in-progress, which will use over 800 sheets of accounting ledger paper, is comprised of fastidiously recorded financial transactions culled from the last 9 months of Kirksghard's life. Says Kirksghard, "My life is actually quite little and happy but on paper it looks very big and very sad."

True to that sentiment, the title of the piece is already 100 characters in length:"The Credit History of America Through the Paper Trail of One Sharon Kirksghard, An Average American."

The South to the Future World Wide Wire Service is a weekly feed of technology and media news commentary and satire published by the San Francisco Bay Guardian. Quotations attributed to public figures who are satirized are often true, but sometimes invented. Some fictional statements may, in fact, be true. Any other use of real names is accidental and coincidental. Editorial questions may be sent to John Paczkowski.