Acid Mass by Joanne Leah

Issue 97

I remember the first time I tried LSD. The person next to me looked as if she was partitioned into individual molecule clusters. I was close enough to read her thoughts. Sometimes, my own body would melt away leaving only my mind.

By freeing ourselves from the constraints of physicality, we vividly bend and lurch into new structures. I continually experiment with engaging in methods of bodily detachment. The images themselves become proof of this vulnerable act, between skin and viscera, exhibitionist and voyeur, public and private. I am interested in relationships of contradiction and the beautiful monotony of inhabiting our bodies while simultaneously trying to escape them.

“When I was a child, I would explore the woods behind my house. I ventured alone, following a small creek. One winter day, I deviated from my usual path. As I walked, I heard a man shout. A pack of barking dogs ran toward me. I immediately dropped to the snowy ground and pretended to be dead. I held my breath. The dogs surrounded me, sniffed and snorted. I had never felt that kind of fear before, the fear of being eaten alive.”

Joanne Leah lives and works in Brooklyn, NY.  
To view more of Joanne's work, please visit her website.