ES, (2016), Superia 800 film

I think of my body as a canvas. It’s a medium I use to express ideas. Every day that can mean something different. Sometimes it’s my favorite t-shirt that my dad gave me from a Serbian student resistance group that fought against Slobodan Milosevic in the late 90s. Sometimes it’s the application of bright pink or red brick eye shadow. A jumpsuit, vintage bowling shirt, the perfect tweed pencil skirt. Each allows me to inhabit some slightly different version of myself. Throughout my adult life I’ve been slowly adding tattoos to that canvas. They’re very private to me. I don’t have any that can be seen by my colleagues at work. But sometimes, when I’m with my friends, going to a show, somewhere more casual, I’ll wear something that shows my back. That’s where she lives. She’s everything I’m not. She's old fashioned, with thick, long hair cascading around her bicycle, she has mystery. The look on her face is haughty, but we’re friends and allies. She’s part of me, but she’s not me. She’s a secret I sometimes share with the world.