in a journal/sketch book from 7 years ago i wrote this:
"wrapping. binding. confusing. dealing with my body confusion. i know who i am. but i don't know who my body is. multiple desires for a single body...a visual confusion yet personal healing. emotionally soothing yet physically painful. ribbons. femininity. quest for excess. a conversion with my body. NEED MORE SKIN. NEED MORE KNIVES. NEED MORE POSSIBILITIES. NEED MORE ANSWERS."
and there is a polaroid of my hand resting on a pink fuzzy pillow wrapped in shredded panty hoes.
this still feels important to me. sometimes i forget that it is ok for my work to feel personal. i have learned to distance myself from my work in an attempt to have it be more serious, that whole cliche about women artist and how everything they do is a personal narrative.