In Flesh I explore fragmented details of the human body—its colors, textures, shapes and lines—as observed through a loupe. To me, these isolated images of the skin’s surface become almost planetary at this distance, producing a perplexing sense of scale. I find that the deepening wrinkles, graying hairs and advancing veins emphasize the effects of time on this otherworldly terrain. Distinctive features—an eyelid, a mouth, a fingernail—remind me of the startling proximity to the subject. Flesh started as a more scientific study of the human body’s topography. As I progressed in my exploration, though, a somewhat disconcerting combination of obsession and intimacy seemed to arise in the photographs, intensifying as the camera’s gaze was intently fixed upon a navel, a tongue and a nipple.