Once [Marc]

Skin is the envelope and the extent of a body; it is the liminal membrane that passes between self and other. Despite its conferral and receipt of touch, skin is an insoluble limit that seals us off from one another. Here is a body at once excruciated and vivified by skin.
My drawings examine the face-to-face, wherein the closeness and remoteness of the other are acutely felt. I make drawings of people I have close relationships with.

My drawings testify to the trauma, trial, and marvel of embodiment. Embodiment is the inalienable and terminal precondition of being. A person's body is designed by rulings of heredity; it is his first only because he lives there, enclosed and encumbered like a snail in its shell. In one's assumption of his body, where it is made full with his voice, actuated and kept and changed by him, it becomes his precarious synonym. I eulogize such idiosyncrasy in amplified color and scale. I mine for the ineffable crossing of his insides and outsides, where physiognomy is reframed by his carriage and comportment.
Skin is one's means of intimacy, but circumscribes the body's essential [al]oneness. Its edge is grounding, unyielding, and self-estranging. I draw these lines around the body. The figures' isolation and the fugitive mark of the pastel query notions of intimacy, and both the indomitability and vulnerability of skin.
The drawing, from tender fingerpad and water and the 'dust of the ground' (chalk), is itself an intimate process. The chalk's infirmity and paper so out of true — rent, rubbed, irregular — seat the person in new multiplicity. Told in a fused lect of stark line and tart color, pallor and recanted mark, he can be both present and lost, whole and coming apart. Fossilized in epoxy resin, the body is illuminated and camouflaged at once. In his nakedness, the person concedes to his body, to its shape, and to its visibility.