I
think of the body as setting for a possible self-staging, as
material: deformable and changeable;
the
body as canvas, shell, robes, skin;
as
mask, which is able to hide the true identity, as house- with skin
made out of bricks in which the I will be forever a stranger. “Under
this mask, another mask. I will never finish removing all these
faces.”1. Skin
is like clothing, it can be worn and removed, or it is the screen
that displays human emotions, for everyone to see.
1 Cahun
Claude , 1930
