A snap, a still, a shot

Picture me naked

Take a black and white polaroid

Take a digital still

Whatever it takes to capture me in your memory 

Imagine me incumbent

The rising political star

Set against the unholy poverty

That backdrop of heartache

I arch my back

Thrusting my hips toward your lens

My lips parted

As a whisper escapes 

My hands turned upward

Crawling towards integrity

I hear your shutter clicking away

In the softness of my neck

The light hits my birth mark

A bite left behind by nature's kiss

I establish my legitimacy

Fighting for credibility

Against all odds,

Against the wisdom induced by age

Will you take me seriously now?

As my scorching dark eyes

Burn a hole through your pages?

My body contorted 

To satisfy your desire for the unusual

With my legs grounded now,

I only allow you to see what I can control

This snapshot,

This still,

This synaptic message

Will be the synopsis of my story

Of Patchwork and Crossroads

"I know i think i feel something."

what?

Shall we call this emotional distancing? It's three degrees of separation...from yourself. Pushing people away for the sake for self preservation, now that I see alot of, but what happens when you push yourself away from, well, yourself?

Maybe if you're self-destructive (a cutter, an anorexic, a suicide-bomber, take your pick), it may not sound like such a bad idea. You find yourself at the crossroads, one path leading you towards others, one leading to new (unknown?) territory, one leading to isolation...and then there's the one you're coming from, which leads you back to yourself. 

"There's nothing there, it's empty."

Empty like an eggshell? White and bland and simple. Some(one/thing) made a hole at the top, and sucked the core right out of the damn thing. So it's sits there empty, fragile, and without it's "core", such a reminder of what hopes and dreams and promises could have been.

My work focuses on crushing that eggshell and then looking at all the pieces that fall apart. Then we pick up the pieces and put them back together like a patchwork quilt, finding new ways to create something old and familiar and comfortable. 

The skin is the largest organ of the human body, yet few of us seem to sit comfortably in ours. Snakes shed their skins and leave behind a "skin shell". We don't always have that luxury as humans, unless perhaps you want to relive the Silence of the Lambs. Putting aside your gag-reflex for a minute, think about the people you know...whose skin would you want to "wear"? Or perhaps you would like to fashion a patchwork "skin" from different people from the different times, when you knew them for their best. 

My skin is soft and hard, textured, and the older it gets, the less familiar it becomes.