Words can be precise or vague, hanging in the air before they arrive at their destination. Some dissipate before landing, some penetrate upon arrival. Spoken words, like written words, never truly disappear but hide or shrink to particles which wedge themselves between cells.
If I write words on my skin, erase them, write them again, traces are left of ink on the pores of my skin. My skin is pixeled with pores so why not make them visible, why erase and clarify the holes that let me breathe and connect inside with outside?
The words move if I move, the letters stretch and fold, lose their definitions in the movement and because they are on my body, those definitions multiply. Out – written on my throat – out – words – out voice -out written on the outside, a message of what is in. Vamp, vice, vulgar, what word… all find their way onto my skin and off it again. They lose their form in re-filming; they lose their meaning in the mirroring effect and become indecipherable symbols. In the over-exposed film they take on a materiality, emerging and disappearing below and above the colored scanning lines. The words hold their power and lose it, irregularly, indefinitely.