OLIVIA OBEN . . . is an interdisciplinary visual designer and researcher interested in exploring cultural ownership, binaries, and systems in and through graphics, design, publications, and physical media.
270 x 230mm, 22 folding leaves, 18 images tipped-in with no adhesive Bound concertina with letterpressed glassine sleeve
Printed at Bookworks You sweat, sweat silly. If you were a cat, you’d lick yourself clean. But you’re not that kind of animal, are you? That shirt you tossed because it was yellowing at the pits and bloodied from eczema. Skin-picking, maybe. An explosion, a bodily function. You’re not a cat. Far too hairless, and if you do grow hair, it’s in patches, oddly placed in stretches framing your pudge– your vessel. The fabrics that your flesh inhabits are torn with familiarity. I see you wear those too-long jeans that catch beneath your boots. There’s blood on your shirt and on your cutting mat too. That’s the one thing you share with the cats– flesh and bone– yet, who is the right animal?