I can not see it

“I cannot see it, I do not know it, I may not touch it.” – Oscar Wilde, The Fisherman and his Soul

What we see here is a dual attention directed both inward, toward one’s own center, and outward, toward the world—an attention divided by an insurmountable threshold, a boundary of inside and outside, marked by the skin. Blind groping, and the traces of that groping. The imprints of the first moment of realization, showing that the boundary between inside and outside can be separated, pierced. The realization that the skin has been torn and fallen into fragments renders all further groping meaningless: behind it there is nothing, only the other half of the same gaze, which can at most immerse itself in itself.

In her body-objects, Nóra Szabó explores the perception of one’s own body and, in a way, the consciousness that monitors this perception—ultimately addressing the problem of the blurred boundaries between body and self-awareness.

— Text by András Szücs (English translation)

The body is in our possession, but it changes from minute to minute. We can never stay the same, and it is equally true that we cannot change from moment to moment. Our physical presence is changing in life, and with the outside, our inner character is changing. The object of examination is the body, but it is useless to know who it is because, although recognizable now, it will not be later. Then it will only be important to have a body. Picture of a woman, a woman’s idea. The painter paints his hands and presses them onto a piece of paper. Every detail is important, what you wear, what you say, how you feel and think, but as soon as you lift your hand from the paper, the individual disappears and becomes foggy and the image of the imprint remains.