Reclaimed bodies.
A body is more than just flesh. More than skin, curves, and the way light falls on it. Yet, in these old playing cards from the 90s, the body is stripped down to something singular—an object, a product, a fleeting moment of pleasure captured in glossy print. The women in these images were never meant to be seen beyond their function. Their presence reduced to a pose, a look, a promise.
I want to return them to themselves.
The deck of cards was given to me by my grandmother. She wanted them gone—burned, destroyed, erased. But I couldn’t do it. As a photographer, I don’t destroy images—I try to understand them.
In an instinctive, immediate act, I used ordinary objects and stationery from home to alter them—covering, scratching, and obscuring—to strip away the imposed sexuality and allow something else to emerge. I wanted to push beyond physicality and look for the personality that had been lost.
Through destruction, I search for presence. What remains when the surface is disrupted? What happens when we are forced to look past what we were told to see?
Reclaimed bodies.
A body is more than just flesh. More than skin, curves, and the way light falls on it. Yet, in these old playing cards from the 90s, the body is stripped down to something singular—an object, a product, a fleeting moment of pleasure captured in glossy print. The women in these images were never meant to be seen beyond their function. Their presence reduced to a pose, a look, a promise.
I want to return them to themselves.
The deck of cards was given to me by my grandmother. She wanted them gone—burned, destroyed, erased. But I couldn’t do it. As a photographer, I don’t destroy images—I try to understand them.
In an instinctive, immediate act, I used ordinary objects and stationery from home to alter them—covering, scratching, and obscuring—to strip away the imposed sexuality and allow something else to emerge. I wanted to push beyond physicality and look for the personality that had been lost.
Through destruction, I search for presence. What remains when the surface is disrupted? What happens when we are forced to look past what we were told to see?