I do not know why I am so drawn to vulnerability and nudity. It evokes a sense of passion within me, a symbol of innate desire. Maybe you have experienced that once or twice, particularly when you see someone you love or obsess over. Not the feeling of sexual arousal, but the turning and twisting you get in your stomach, a magnetic pull. A peculiar feeling which truly cannot be described by the English language, but still an universal emotion, a thought that we all share. Scientists would call this a singularity; artists, maybe love; and philosophers, an enigma, but in the end, it's just pure, raw, comfort. Something we all think we know well and claim we all have, but I have yet to meet someone who actually lives as such.

Our days have become restless, it's sickening, absolutely diminishing our true capabilities. Everything continues to change as time marches forward; there's no longer peace. Life constantly demands from you: a deadline, a commitment, an artist statement. Work continues to pile up, and so does stress from society's persistent sense of urgency. It feels taboo when you put it that way, doesn't it? A silent, eerie feeling that nothing really is what it seems. A mystery, perchance.

Until you get home and lock the door behind you, unplug for the day, and pretend to forget every strain you’ve encountered, maybe finally finding something close to relaxation, effortlessly, just living within the current moment.

After Hours is meant to depict a sense of comfort, naturalness, gender, and memory, inspired by Judie Bamber. The subject is candidly shown, like she has just come from a relaxing shower and into the soft, wrinkled sheets, showing a literal sense of comfort. Books draw away from sexuality, which may be evoked at first glance, as I feel the literature signifies the theme of memory. For those who love to read, I know a book depicts more than the characters or pure literature within the pages. They remind us of who we were when we first picked up the book, the events which took place in our lives, who we loved, then who we have lost. It is a distant world only evoked through memory, and even then, no one but you remembers it the same.

It's comforting, isn't it?