THICKER THAN WATER
 
   
 
   
 

Cara Judea Alhadeff                                 Micaela Amato

A layer of skin is removed to reveal a layer of skin: 
The Fascinating Genealogy of Micaela Amato and Cara Judea Alhadeff

In a process of exfoliation we shed skin, hair, nails, clothes, names, marriages, countries, lives.  We shed million of skin particles daily in a physical manifestation of the "cloud of unknowing" within which we conduct our conscious lives.  Enmeshed within our layerings, we make a place, or drag along our sheddings in the train of our nomadic wanderings.  The mother spider, in birthing her spiderlings, drags her placenta behind her.  Erupting, the sac sheds dozens of offspring that crawl to her back, there to nest.      An artist mother and artist daughter shed and take up one another, try one another on, pantomime one another, in a ritual of leave taking and return.  Faces mesh, bodies join in the midst of the coverings, the languages, the histories, and embark once again, towards sanctuary, the point of departure.      Each are different, each alike, they are one and two, a dyad splitting and joining, each autonomous yet a mirror, each is the child of the other, and each is the mother to each. -Robert Yarber