One single name cannot contain the total number of bodies and extensions coexisting in the core of my being.
Yet, I will try to get rid of all the layers involved and undress the meaning of the first structure.
My skeleton, my muscles, my flesh and my fat, all of them chanting and dancing under the instructions of the same director.
We could call him Head, but over the years of my very short life, I’ve been able to confirm that the laws and guidelines come from a more distant and stranger place.
Each vibration, consonant or assonant, is reflected in my own skin, without me being fully aware of its position or meaning in the Universe.
But my body does know.
He is capable of reproducing each cleft, mountain, and earthquake.
Even rivers and volcanoes are enclosed within the boundaries of my physical self.
I do not know where the limit between my body and everything that is not my body is.
I do not know where the threshold between my body and the shape that draws when it twists are.
When I am feeling the bravest, I tend to forget my body and remember my soul.
-That softer and more welcoming place-.
-That place where my body sleeps when I’m sleeping in it-.
For Camila Falquez's NY exhibition Body of Work