But what if I'm not my selfie?
projection, (man)nequin, gold paint, rope, sand
11.5" x 13.5"
When looking at work that features the body on display, I am consistently challenged by the notion of one’s body as the site.
Because what if one cannot so effortlessly be their body? What if it is considered vulgar? What if it’s not considered at all?
What if I’ve never been this ready, but you still are not? What if you never will be?
I can feel everyone wanting my body all of the time. Their greedy eyes try to strip my chest and my groin and my waist while they wait for me to speak so my body outs itself. I don’t know what they want, but I know they want it. Friends. Bosses. Partners. Roommates. Coworkers. Strangers. Competition. Everyone wants a slice. They want to fuck it. They want to photograph it. They want it to disappear. They want me to stand here; they want me to stand there. They want me to hold this, they want me to move that or they don’t want me here at all. They want me to show up or they want me to stay home, they want me on time or they want me two minutes late. They want me to be present or they want me to be nowhere.
But what will they do when I refuse to give it to them?
Because while everyone wants my body, that makes everyone but me.
Tele-, Issue 3, 2019