Self-imposed Decay

Decay is as pervasive as life, but we choose to ignore it for a peace of mind or a better sense of self. Sometimes, though, I find that doing the opposite provides a more informed, more realistic grasp of my actions.

I wanted to examine decay as a process that is controlled, that is a choice. One of my bad habits is the tendency to scratch my itchy skin, particularly on my legs, when it feels dry. This simple surrender to my animalistic instincts allows me a brief sense of relief, even at the expense of breaking my skin, making myself bleed. This happens most often during the coldest, driest time of the year – winter, and by the beginning of spring, I’m left with legs that look like they’ve been beaten and battered. Then summer returns and my skin heals until it happens all over again. This constant cycle (I’ve yet to manage to change my ways) is my own recognized form of self-decay. More than a mere physical decay of my skin, it’s an act that marks the passing of the year and the subsequent loss of will-power.

I chose to create this image as a sort of confessional that invites the viewer to become a voyeur to my frenetic and futile actions. A simple move – a scratch, with enough frequent repetition, can easily become hysteric and aggressive. My skin is torn and my hands have evidence of blood on them. The bath serves as a private and psychological retreat. It’s a desperate attempt to seek absolution from my unhealthy habits that will probably never come.