In Security Check, Mona von Wittlage confronts the viewer with a figure poised between exposure and control. Painted in blood across a surface of sanitary bags, the body crouches low, boots planted firmly, gaze direct and unyielding. The posture suggests both vulnerability and defiance, as though caught in an act of inspection—objectified yet resisting, subjected yet asserting power.

The printed warnings on the bags, banal in their repetition, echo like bureaucratic commands against the raw immediacy of the figure. Blood becomes both trace and testimony, a reminder that every demand for control is inscribed upon fragile, mortal flesh.

Security Check unsettles by forcing us to confront the contradictions of our age: intimacy turned into surveillance, desire entangled with discipline, and life itself reduced to a checkpoint.