For my self-portrait I was torn between two extremes- one – being the adjective “dirty” – and the second, “fabulous.”  Dirty – not as a scandalous term, but dirty as in “you filthy little kid.”  As a child I was a neat freak, obsessively compulsive to the point of showering twice daily.  However, this changed when I turned 17, and suddenly realized the unimportance of showering daily.  If Europeans could go a week without showering, why couldn’t I?  Thus the boycott of showering began, and regardless of my mother’s continual threats and occasional grounding I refused to shower daily, or for that matter every other day. I squeaked by (no pun intended) until recently, when my bout of uncleanliness came to an abrupt halt.  I realized it was okay to bathe occasionally, wash my face, and comb my hair.  Maybe it was having lived in Europe for eight months and realizing how gross it was to not bathe regularly that flipped the switch. 

For my self-portrait I thought it would be cool to illustrate my four and a half year boycott by covering the upper half of my body in clay mud and using light to illuminate my mud ridden face.  Lying in a bathtub with mud streaked walls, teased lioness hair, and a dirty grin would have perfectly illustrated this four-year phenomenon.  However, when I discovered I would have to use brownie mix in place of mud (because mud is runny and won’t stick) my brilliant plan came to an abrupt halt.  The thought of egg and oil simultaneously mixed in my hair made my stomach queasy.   I guess I’m not all that dirty after all, and maybe now, a little too clean.