Jorie completely understands if Jana wants to punch her in the face

No sweet bathroom photo this week… I know, huuuuge bummer, but as consolation I have some sweet photos of Giulio and Tommaso wearing my boots on their arms, and because I am so generous I will be giving of my time as I sit here for an hour waiting for them to load. I also have a ridiculous video that I would love to stick on here somehow, but I would probably be sitting here until the next Ice Age waiting for it to load.
Composure. In theory, it is a pretty ridiculous concept- the idea that we must keep up appearances and masks in order to make it look like we have all our shit together 24/7, when in reality everyone is working out some issue or another. The constrictions of composure require that we all restrict ourselves to some extent. In translating what is going on inside to what others see on the outside, a meticulous editing process happens. In my art, I think it is extremely important to try to break down that composure, and reveal what happens when that editing process does not occur. What happens when as a human being, you aren’t aware of or choose to reject the limitations and strict rules of composure? So then I wonder, is composure self-imposed as our way of fitting into the world, or as a result of social pressures that are externally imposed?
I eat my words a little bit- I hope this does not give off the very, very wrong impression that I am a particularly well-composed human being, because that could not possibly be further from the truth. But conceptually, composure has lead me towards something I understand a bit better- vulnerability. When we are not composed, we are vulnerable. Without that protective shell, without that editing process, what goes on internally is immediately apparent. For me, that is utterly terrifying.
So I think I’m going to photograph myself naked. Again, this is another situation where as a human being I will not be in my typical, attempt-to-be-composed state. I won’t lie; I’m scared shitless. These pictures will probably not be of an extraordinarily confident woman, parading about like in the master works you see of naked women in paintings with angels all around them in a comfortable, natural place, or looking straight forward with the unwavering eye contact of the Olympia.
I’m hoping to communicate my own, quiet celebration of femininity, and my own reflection of what it means to be human: what it means to let go of composure, what happens when we do, what happens when we put ourselves in a position of complete vulnerability and honesty. One of the conditions of being human is that you receive a body. You will get one; you don’t have any choice there. Perhaps I can use mine to explore, to express, and to communicate the difficulties and uncomfortable places that I have recently inhabited. I want to show that it is ok to let go of composure, and be completely naked in every sense of the word.
I don’t know; it was just a thought.