Sunday, June 03, 2007

Beneath Her Skin

Every couple of nights, I would sketch one or two of the bar girls in my hotel room, away from the curious eyes of passers-by. I wasn't interested in making finished pictures. I wanted to sketch their eyes, their mouths, and the shape of their faces, as well as the way they angled their necks, elbows and wrists, the physical gestures as individual as fingerprints. Sometimes I photographed their tattoos, crude, inky stains tracing traditional Thai and (in a couple of cases) Japanese imagery.
rarely sketched them naked, although sometimes they relaxed enough that a languid sexual tension seeped into the space between my hand and their skin like a stray, sweet scent. We spoke so little that I was left alone to imagine myself within their minds and muscle, imagine what they did each night – and did with me, a couple of times, when I surrendered my inhibitions.
Truth is, I wasn't trying to find anything of them in the rough, quick marks I made. I was looking for shard-like reflections of myself

1 comment:

Jeanine said...

we are only truly seen through the reflection of another's eyes...
what a lovely glimpse