MY
TEARS
ARE
BECOMING
A
SEA
When specular light bounces off water, it paints a pulsating mosaic. In my tears are becoming a sea, I considered water as a conduit that bridges the timescales of the human body (of which it is the majority), our planet (the sky and sea) and the parallelism of urban construction (which it flows around). When water is gone, so is nearly everything else. I imagined two women who fight the inevitability of drying and shrivelling up: wrapping food, and themselves, to hold the moisture in. I wanted to focus on how the self-presentation of femininity in an ‘is what it is’ dry world equates to self-preservation. What water is gained must be simultaneously lost by another. In consuming another, has Katherine transcended the water of her body, sans a tear?
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