From the word body to the interconnected symbolism of the snake; I was interested in exploring the process of renewal and transformation. I was drawn to the visual of a snake shedding skin, also to the imagery I found at the beach of the sand starting out grainier and softening as it reached the ocean. It is riddled with symbolism surrounding the cyclical process of birth-death-rebirth.

The body is encased in skin. Skin has connotations of protection, the external, the exterior. Thus I looked at the process of peeling, unlayering, uncovering, opening. Which is something I see occurring repetitively in many shapes and forms.

We peel bananas and other fruits. We engage in the processes of cleaning. Of dressing. Of washing. They are mundane. We do them daily and routinely. Often with little thought. Even to point our bodies are shedding skin. Every minute of the day we lose about 30,000 to 40,000 dead skin cells off the surface of our skin. We don’t notice this. It is something that transcends space and time.

So I set out to find objects that could be peeled, undressed, unlayered. I set out to engage with the process of peeling in a performative and meditative way. I intended to sink it the cyclical nature of it. I collected my objects and asked my friend to film me. I sat out in the sun listening to ambient music (the same music in the video) and I peeled for an hour straight. I peeled different fruits and vegetables. I peeled wax and PVA glue from my skin. I peeled petals from flowers and I peeled clothes from my body.

I edited and cut the video to enhance the action of peeling. I put it on fast forward to mirror how these mundane acts can feel, these processes that are happening but that we are not particularly aware of. I cut the shots together moving from object to object in a way that attempted to depict the feeling of routine.

To be clear. My experiment isn’t the video, it is the process of peeling. We are all peeling right now. And least one person here has probably peeled something today.

So this experiment is not finished, it can never be finished.

The final shot I have here is of the skin on my back. It’s peeling. You can’t see it. You cant quantify it or time it. It’s cyclical. It’s mundane. It’s profound and symbolic. That’s the point.