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.