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Hands are extremely private parts of the human body, yet at the same time our most public. They embody our innermost personality and yet are the first extension into the world, like branches of our innards reaching out. With our hands we do the most intimate things- both creative and destructive. We make love, we caress, hold, shape, reach, carry, build, and we also slap, hit, push, punch, destroy. Out of love and necessity we prepare food, and wash our private and communal intimate bodies. We know our loved one’s hands as clearly as our own. Somehow, in the depiction of hands, from hands inspired by medieval paintings to the hands of the people I most love, I get close to the ephemeral spirit of a person, the almost thereness of them. The use of dark graphite and glass pushes the sense of the fleeting nature of things, how fragile and yet tensile is our knowing and loving one another. Emerging from darkness in the graphite, ephemerally there in glass, hands reflect this fragile knowing, so mysterious we can see it only sideways, in glimmers, darkness and reflection.
Depuis que je me suis cassé le poignet et que je fonctionne d'une main, je ne cesse de rencontrer des artistes qui évoquent la main et ce sujet m'amène des éclairages fabuleux sur ma vie et mes expériences.