The wind moves man
like soft breath on a flame.
Don’t fight the flow man
for wind you can’t blame
We are vulnerable without our clothes on. Even in the mirror our bare bodies are an easy target for judgement and criticism. We compulsively pick out our flaws and fantasize about what could make them disappear; or we inflate, even fabricate the worth of our good qualities to compensate with what we are truly insecure about. It’s hard enough to accept our own thoughts and desires, even while these are hidden from others, sheltered from society's storm of judgement and rejection. Our bodies are a lot more difficult, if not impossible, to hide. Even alone in our room we may get stuck staring at a picture of a beach trip, and the bodies of others and ourself become an obsession; or we merely look down at our strange, crooked toes. Our bodies seem to be an inescapable vessel that somehow reflects our self worth even though we truly don’t have that much control over it, it’s not fully and truly ours
Flow is about letting go--though not only letting go of our desperate grasping and controlling of our bodies. It’s an attempt to symbolize the letting go of our desperate grasping and controlling of life. It’s not merely a body posed in an abstract and vulnerable position. It’s an experience of an individual as a whole--nothing more and nothing less--attempting to shift and shape their experience to move and flow with the natural movements of nature. One attempts to let go of their fears of subjective social judgment by attempting to form their body and consciousness to the objective beauty of nature, its vacuousness and its absurdity. Limbs lose their carnal identity and become another form to ebb and flow with the complex waves and lines and shapes. Like moss our hair becomes just another texture to compliment the definition of this indescribable thing we call nature. The creases that countour our bodies merge with the folding creases of a tree's bark; the smooth rolling of our muscle, fat, and skin over our interior body moves with the rolling waves of the water that sustains us; and the solid, heavy and hairy forms we call arms and legs fit like a puzzle pieces with the mossy silhouettes of tree branches and smooth shapes of a tree trunk. Though one of our deepest and most potent fears is to lose our-self, it is also one of our greatest desires.While making love we move, dance, and twist with our partner before losing our-self completely in la petite mort--little death--In Flow I attempt to help others and myself move, dance, and twist with nature.