New York, New York
My grandfather lived with my family while he was dying of cancer. He died in the study we converted into his room. I can still see the dim lights, smell the faint whiff of Ensure® and hear him sing to me as he tickled my arm.
Mom has had several cysts removed from her breasts. So far, each test has come back benign. Dad continually has skin cancer spots removed from his hands and back. He swears it's nothing to worry about. What frightens me is that neither story exists in isolation or completion.
I am continually drawn to the body's changes, transformations, distortions, perfection and horrors, it's needs and desires. I want to explore what it disguises and protects. I want to confront its battles and its beauties. Lumps, incisions, feathers and pearls all exist simultaneously as one negotiates both interior and exterior battles.
Untitled addresses this "decoration" and disguise of a painful relationship with the body.
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