“Sleepmarks” is not really a word. I made it up in a Belgian hotel room when I was standing naked in front of a mirror. The series is an investigation of privacy, an investigation of the social ritual of watching our reflection in the mirror, an investigation of the chance to redefine your self every morning. As much as I am intrigued by the patterns of sleep on someone’s skin, I am a voyeur; Sleemarks is my excuse to devour nakedness. In ten minutes the marks on someone’s skin are gone.