drafting a woman.

(ongoing series)

There is the art that lives in me, and the one that arrives on paper. There is the woman I harbor, and the one that appears before you. The distance and difference between them tortures me. Between them is an endless war that divides me in two. Every piece I write, each art I make falls short of depicting the chaos and the intensity inside me. There is a nagging sense that follows me through every piece that I am only touching the borders of what I mean to say. Through this series of images and with this messy setting the accompanies it, I am attempting to visually portray the agony of eternally living in one’s drafts (earnest, obsessive writings that never discover their final form), like the woman who never completely resides within the true, free spirit of herself but instead searches endlessly and without peace for the final draft of herself.