works on paper made with ink and bar soap; video installation; four debossed artist's books
More than a year into the COVID-19 pandemic, I felt myself losing time, struggling to differentiate one day from the next. Under lockdown in Paris, the days seemed to blend into one another. 

During this time, my partner and I were living 500 km apart, unable to visit one another due to the confinement restrictions.
In April 2021, we began a collaboration in which we kept a correspondence through a 'separation diary,' as a means of kindling a small daily connection with each other. Each morning, we sent each other a word, a phrase, a sentence, a poem, whatever—and wrote it on our skin. Then, at the end of the day, we sent each other a photo of our wrists. 
When I began this process, I didn’t have any specific final product in mind, except for the performative task of sending words and documenting them on my skin. However, the process quickly became an important (and somewhat intimate) daily ritual for me. After I woke, I checked my texts, examined my skin, and wrote a new phrase. The collaboration served as a measure of marking time, visually representing its passage through ephemeral marks in ink.
In observation, I remarked in my sketchbook on the sixth day:

Like a vanishing scratch or a fading tattoo, the indelible mark of my partner’s words are left on the surface of my skin—even if they are no longer legible.
Parallel to the daily ritual of mark-making on my skin, I decided to follow this same process in a series of works on paper. Every morning, when I wrote on my skin, I wrote on the paper; every evening, when I washed myself, I washed the paper.
After a few daily repetitions, I noticed the paper itself began to break down. To my surprise, the bar soap had a fascinating effect on the ink, alternately protecting and disintegrating the words. Simultaneously serving as a record of time, memory, ritual, and destruction, the marks were inevitably altered and washed away, becoming a memento of the words that were written there throughout the passing days. 
Nothing lasts forever, of course. But through this shared artistic endeavor, I was able to mark the fleeting time, to create a meaningful ritual, and—ultimately—to feel a little less alone.
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