f l e s h . a n d . f o r m

Ink on paper.

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I remember being lectured on the difference between nakedness and nudity in art. Nudity is natural, innocent, unintentional: a goddess bathing or a mother nursing her child. Nakedness is purposeful, brash, powerful: the reclining Olympia in her shoes and jewelery, in charge of her body and willingly exposing herself.

I find that I'm drawn to that concept; I think about nakedness and comfort and strength; I think how, as I've grown more comfortable with myself I've grown more comfortable with my body. I think about clothing and the concealment of ourselves; I think about the beauty of flesh and form; I think about the feminist minefield that I may be unknowingly stumbling into.

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Our bodies are the tools that we might use to achieve the plans that our spirits can only dream of.