DISGUSTING SKIN
november 2022. paris, france.
photos by ava hudson. recycled mattress foam, curtain racks, grommets, yarn, fabric from vintage winter-wear.
what if i don’t want to be in this human skin?
i escape to another form in DISGUSTING SKIN. tired of living in a human body, tired of taking care of a human body, tired of being seen in a human body… i imagine being swallowed by a sea creature and becoming one with a slippery, ragged being. freed from human constraints, i find peace in this new skin.
FORM: RECYCLED MATTRESS FOAM LAYER ON TOP, CURTAIN RACK “SPINE” UNDERNEATH
CONCEPTUAL DEVELOPMENT
this piece developed after writing a poem, drawing, and painting to explore this idea.
DISGUSTING SKIN
sometimes I feel disgusted that i have a human form
that i have human hands and a human chest and human ears and all this skin
and under the skin flesh and under the flesh bones that i have to take care of and
i don't want to think about it.
i am bored of this skin, i want to
wriggle out of it.
imagine,
swimming into a sea where there is so much salt, that even in the shallows you can't see the sand.
the salt makes the water opaque, and
when you wade in, the thick liquid corrodes your skin (so quickly) so that
you are left raw and bathing
g in this liquid. the liquid
carries you far out where you can't even see the texture of salt in the water.
it is too dark, and the sea is too deep.
in the opaque water,
you still are left raw so the skin of the sea
peels their way up to the surface. this creature is shining in salt and a commotion of complexity
corroded, into a
wonderful knotted and bumpy mess of a being.
they turn one hundred little eyes towards your jumbled astray body,
gently envelops you into their gleaming flesh. your pulses are quick, and match one another.
in the granular and crude sea,
ou move to the same rhythm...
(sometimes I just feel like there is too too much)
(disgusting skin.)
