Second Skin, Session No. 2

With this second session, my excitement for this series has only grown and grown. In such a short amount of time, I am seeing the profound transformative opportunity these sessions can truly be. The writing itself is, of course, therapeutic, but the moment she begins pushing against the fabric after naming the things she is pushing against, a new version of herself emerges, a stronger version. What a beautiful thing to witness.

The anonymity of the sheer fabric allows her to play with the shapes her physical form can make, to play with how emotion translates through her body. To shun the male gaze she's been encouraged to adapt to her whole life, in favor of something more weirdly wonderful, discovering the female gaze with me. The sometimes messy, playful, strange, angry, hilarious, more well rounded human being we are just beginning to more fully see in media.

My second participant, Lisa, was an enthusiastic volunteer. I'm not pushing this idea on anyone. Because of its intimate nature, I want to work with people who are truly excited about it, who think it would be something of value for them to do personally. So much so that they ask to be part of it, rather than me having to convince them. Lisa is proud to take part and has opted to use her name and be tagged in social media posts, but this isn't a necessity. You can do this completely anonymously, if you prefer.

Lisa came to this work carrying something quieter than I expected. Not an event she could point to, not a before and after. Just a pattern. Overthinking that never fully switches off. A running commentary of self doubt she's carried for so long it doesn't just live in her mind anymore, it sits in her body. It weighs her down.

It made me realize how wide this project's definition of "carried" really is. A body can hold a memory, yes. But it can just as easily hold a habit of mind, something that never happened to her exactly, but that she's rehearsed so many times it settled into her posture anyway.

She reads her letter aloud on camera before we shoot, her words spoken out loud, then her body takes over from there. Fabric standing in for whatever she's ready to stop carrying, her hands working against it, her whole body finding out what it feels like to resist instead of absorb. Watching that shift, from her voice naming it to her body pushing against it, is something I don't think I can fully put into words. You can see it change something.

Lisa’s letter ended on this:

"My skin whispers to me...

You are kind.

You are beautiful.

You are talented.

You are NOT convenient.

You are loyal.

You are bold.

You are done."

Bravo, Lisa. Bravo.

Second Skin will most likely always live mostly in black and white. The diversity of the women who step in front of my camera is where I want the real range in this series to come from, not the color palette. But some people just call for something different, and for this session, I introduced color. Lisa is the kind of person who leaves a trail of confetti behind her wherever she goes, and once I had her in front of the camera, I couldn't resist finding out what this series looked like through that kind of energy, just this once.

Thank you, Lisa, for letting me photograph you exactly as you are.

If any of this resonates, if you've got layers you're ready to name and push against, I'd love to hear from you.

Stacie