Anyone who has a body, has a skin—it is the boundary that separates the inside from the outside. Anyone who has skin perceives themselves and others. We get goose bumps when we are afraid, but also when we feel the icy wind of a January night. Skin is also the organ through which touch occurs. How wonderful it is to caress a loved one! Seen poetically, we also have a “heart skin” that is permeated by our feelings, an “eye skin” that feels what we see, and even a “light skin” that senses the spirit. With each of them, I touch and am touched by different spheres. With each of these encounters, a third element awakens that is more than the internal and external mediation of a subject and an object. It is as though the spiritual counterpart, the idea of skin, of perception itself, brings this third into appearance. It is what emerges as a new image out of the contact between two beings. “Skin” is therefore also a canvas. Something is painted by both sides that is physically and spiritually perceivable. Something is created by both sides and having skin is the ability to realize this.
Becoming skin consciously means, first of all, remaining myself. Then it means remaining touchable, despite all my vulnerabilities. And remaining touchable in a digital, disembodied world means preserving our capacity for perception. What we can experience about the world and ourselves with a body and skin is something quite different from our knowledge about the world. Being skin means being oneself—the individual who experiences and lives. Those who no longer have skin have no life of their own. That is why it is worth taking care of.
Translation Laura Liska
Photo Engin Akyurt
