The skin does not lie: it’s a person’s age map; it’s the paper where his choices, failures, passions, fears are written on. The body defines ourselves, it stratifies and heals passing of time under veils, blankets and hidings. As the trunk to the trees.
As the paper to the book: it changes, it is crumpled or turns thin and transparent, defining - thanks to Ingrid De Kok’s words - the map of a weathered body.
Take it, trace it, map it
Artists: Margaret Lansink