#ik i only talk about danyok in this but i’m also thinking about her film malila

[maggiecheungs]

i am truly in love with how p’nuchie films nakedness. her gaze is so unbearably intimate and gentle; nakedness becomes vulnerability, and she treats it so tenderly. it isn’t eroticised at all by the camera. skin becomes the final barrier between the inner self and the world; the act of baring your flesh is confession and surrender. we came into this world naked, she says. do you remember what the world looked like when you were a child? children live their lives free of shame. who are you when you shed your clothes and your labels and your fears and your guilt? do you remember a time when your naked flesh brought you joy?

yok builds his art and his resistance around the idea of nakedness because he sees it as something crucially—painfully—beautifully—human. the body is more than just a tool for labour or an object to be sexualised. when you cut us, we bleed. we bleed beneath our clothes and our status and our masks and armour. how long can someone bleed and still live? we are so tired.

and when she brings the naked bodies of lovers together—even those scenes refuse to be reduced to sexuality. instead, they say: i come to you wearing nothing but my own flesh and skin; do you still want me? and in return: i see every part of you and you do not disgust me.

nakedness says: look at my scars and my flaws and do not flinch. it says: i am not ashamed. it speaks of bravery and vulnerability and trust. when p’nuchie films nakedness, it is an acknowledgment of the body as a wearied repository of pain. it is also the recognition of and hope for its ability to one day heal; to find joy and pleasure in the world and the people around you. yok draws dan’s body, heavy with pain and guilt, and makes it beautiful.

a coin has two sides. on one: the body is a prison. on the other: the body is a home.