While awaiting torture at a dentist appointment this past wednesday, a magazine, focused on pop culture/social awareness, provoked me to begin this project for myself. The addicting article chronicled the pursuit of self-acceptance of a pleasantly plump woman through bare photography—The Real Women Project. As Idesired ice cream at ten years old, three aging women craved to change the psychological health of women of the next century.
Here I am nine years later situating my own project as the axis of my life: Fragile.
My objective does not include inspiring humanity to examine his/her existence, or question beauty, or convey negativism of self-criticism…or unstir the juices already mixed by the unset social committee of standards. My objective is to expose visual elements of my physical structure in order to detach weakness from my persona…and as I see the results, I will be able to view my imperfections as a vital part of me.
Nonexistant perfection + imperfections = Mariam
This project, which does not include bareness, is figuratively a revolutionary shout against the limiting factors of my fragility. By Victorian definition, a woman is “An animal usually living in the vicinity of a Man.”
Psht.
If that was the definition of my womanhood, Fragile would mean nothing to me! This project is about me, for me, by me.
As I posed for the camera, I knew this project would help me understand myself. First thing to get over–my nonself-consumption. I need to love me, to love others.
