‘will you lay in my absence?’

In this series of self portrait photographs, I placed myself in two different settings. The bedroom,

and a vault. The difference in vulnerability became unavoidable. Wearing nothing but a corset,

laying in my own bed, I immediately felt the tendency to perform for the camera. Like there was

a man replacing the lens. A glare waiting to endure sexual pleasure. The intention of my spine

became my focus. A structure resembling nothing of gender. Confirmative to a man’s world, I’ve

never felt most myself when displayed as feminine. Having a small chest meant I could be

laughed at as I wasn’t ‘woman’ enough. But who said that? Who made that rule? Men.

I felt a disturbing comfort in this relocation. I fear the familiarity of becoming a stage monkey

when in bed was more so an instinct than a role. From the age of 16 I had a toxic relationship

with ‘sex’. Being taken control of by the wealthiest ‘boy’ in my year I felt any word I could

speak would be silenced, dominated by His power.

When describing my work to a class of women, I described it as both beautiful and ugly, a

juxtaposition that only existed because my chosen words fell within our known female language.

The Oxford English Dictionary (which was written by a group of Men) defines ‘Ugly’ as

“unpleasant or repulsive, especially in appearance” ; it specifically uses the word “appearance”

in its definition. Growing up my mother taught me Ugly was the way you treated someone. An

act rather than a physical trait.

During the experience of creating this body of work I have realised I only ever feel ugly when a

Man is present.