"Anyone who looks long at themselves in the mirror should understand this, though: Somedays this skin feels like a vehicle and somedays it's a prison."


One of my favourite songwriters once wrote: "Here's a marker, here's my naked skin, our Exhibit A. Put a small x where I lost my way."


You can't do that, though. You wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the gouges of pleasure and the gouges of despair just by looking at them. The ink may be pretty, but you don't know why it's there. That's because this is my map and not yours. I could point out the landmarks, but you'll never know the territory like I do. I've lived here all my life.


Anyone who looks long at themselves in the mirror should understand this, though: Somedays this skin feels like a vehicle and somedays it's a prison. It's true, this body is incredible. It moves with my very thought. It becomes better at whatever I do with it. It can theoretically take me wherever I want to go. At the same time, however, I am also tied to it, obligated to it, a servant to it's incessant upkeep. You don't get a break from the visceral. It's all a matter of perspective.


I can't sit and think about my naked body without knowing that eventually it will be gone, turned to dust. Then I wonder about where and what I am when that time comes. What is the weight of my present worries then? What do they amount to in that context? Human life is a cigarette, and skin is but the paper, holding in all we are so fine but so tenuously. Through the great spark of birth, we become lit and the inevitable begins. Who will you share a few drags with? Who might you finally surrender to and lovingly say, "kill it?"


Perhaps I participated in this project as another way of coming to terms with some of these feelings. I've spent several years now becoming more comfortable with myself and my body, and no doubt more comfortable showing the latter to strangers. I've directed this vessel to create my art, and now, finally, the vessel itself is on display. To separate myself from it, I consider that perhaps this is the recognition it deserves from me. I can't say I had no concerns about how I'd look stripped down in the dim light of my humble apartment. I realized, though, that this isn't about beauty. This is about truth. It's a slightly higher calling.


Oh, but regrettably... I forgot to let my hair down. So there you have it: Human male plus elastic band.


It's good to see people naked. It connects us all to something we have lost. We are different, but we are the same.











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