Scars – I’m fascinated by them, especially on the face. It’s not a fetish or anything, I’ve just always been transfixed by the asymmetry of scars and the stories behind them – like ink, but nature’s version. It all started with Jeff, a young man whose perfect Aryan face – alabaster skin, high cheekbones, mutable blue-grey eyes and full lips – smashed through a windshield and left the most exquisite pink jagged line down his visage, from forehead to chin, drawing attention to something that would otherwise be almost unremarkable in its symmetry – now turned into something divine. Scars tell a story: I was here doing that when I got this. There is meaning hidden behind the flaw. Scars remind us that we have lived.