Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia |
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA
Melissa Spiccia | MELISSA SPICCIA

Between Thighs And The Doorway 2019

“Every inch of this place is them bodies”. She tells me.

“Taken to pieces, they wait here. Can’t go back to their old stories. But can’t leave”.

One eye hangs low on her cheek, shifts its focus to the floor.

Stroking the cat cradled between her thighs I watch as she silently stuffs it inwards.

Dawn lifts up the dirt and drags the sun above the horizon.

The woman, now anxiously collects her limbs and folds them neatly into her hair, reminding me repeatedly she isn’t one of them.

I watch.

The way they go, circles them back.

Leaving, with one arm clinging on.

There by the doorway something unnameable stands. We can’t see it. But we know it’s there.

It’s what makes the walls creak against gravity and my chest ache.

Hidden, between time.

I take my camera out and try and take a shot but the shame on her face reflects back at me.

It takes my head off.

Slithers across the floor, behind half a woman, half a lie.

 

1 of 19 images →