Drawing inky dreams into our skin, braiding histories into our hair, piercing constellations across our bodies: how do we express all the moments we have lived through, all the moments we have survived, all the things that have shaped us.
Identity, the way we paint ourselves into the world, can be dissected along multiple frameworks, we can sit at the intersection of rigid categories, we can explore how the versions of us are known and unknown, both to ourselves and the communities in which we circulate.
Often we are asked to claim our identity back; to shout, to march, to guard its boundaries, to battle against the moulds we are forced into. Sometime identity can feel less of a celebration and more of a heavy mantel to carry.
We are masked by these versions of ourselves, but what role do our masks have, and do we notice when we remove them anymore? Do we slide with less friction between this version of ourselves in this room, and this other one, over here. Do we still believe that our ‘truest’ selves lie behind these characters we are playing?
Chiselled by perceptions, sculpted by experiences, constantly morphing dependent on age, location, on our cultural capital, we hold these complex identities in our hands and ask who am I? Who are we?