Miri
Levi

I have felt blue, seen blue, lived blue for a little while; but like others, blue changed; it morphed into different colours. Here, I landed on red.

Red is to be seen; to be there out in the open, like a red flag for some bull to point at. If you want to be noticed, you dress in red. If you want to show power, or make a statement, then again, red is a solid choice. Red is fire, blood, violence, and yet, also love. Red is complicated.

I quite like red.

Growing up as a woman in a male minded world, I learnt to use red. When you are automatically constantly under scrutiny, you learn how to control it. Minuscule details become heavier. Any shiny surface is a form of reflection; every window a mirror. What you are and what you are seen to be, two separate universes, collapse into a constructed idea of a self. Red becomes a weapon, a trick. A red lipstick at the right moment; a red dress on a summer evening. You learn how to see red, feel red, to wear it.

I think that, one way or another, these images are a reflection of my relationship with the colour. They are a short journey into what it means to have a female body with skin that attracts eyes. It is a sort of mini reflection into the body that we have, and the one that we construct to exist in the eyes of others.

On a technical note, what you see is the result of a series of experiments combining inkjet prints of found images and self-portraits with silver gelatin paper and hair dye.

I have spent half of my life colouring my hair, often red.

One day I dyed darkroom paper instead.